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TRIUMPH OF PRINCIPLE: 


^{irilling ®ale — an /acts. 


BY CHARLEYS HOWARD. 


ALTON,* ILL. 

PRINTED AT THE TELEGRAPH BOOK AND JOB OEFICB. 

1854 . 







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N 


CHAPTER L 


MARRIAGE OF MISS SELDEN. AND DEATH OF HER PARENTS. 

“ Well, after all, I very much fear, my dear, that our daughter is 
about to make a bad match ; ” said Mr. Selden to his better half, just af- 
ter their intended son-in-law had left their door for the last time pre- 
vious to his marriage with their only daughter. 

‘‘ And pray, what’s the matter now, Mr. Selden,” said his wife, pet- 
ulantly. 

‘‘ Well,” replied Mr. Selden, “to tell the truth, there is a great 
deal the matter ; and I feel, now, that I have done wrong in permitting 
Morton to visit our daughter, for I have strong forebodings that he 
will make her a cruel husband. I believe him to be devoid of all those 
endearing feelings which are required to sweeten the married state, and 
wholly destitute of those moral principles, which, in the husband, form 
the wife’s only safeguard from tyrannical abuse.” 

“ Ah ! that’s the way you always talk,” said Mrs. Selden ; “ I love 
our dear girl as well as you,” she continued, “ and I have labored hard 
for her, and I have succeeded in raising her up in credit, and in giving 
her a good edication, and in gitting her in good society, and all these 
fine things ; and now, I am about to git her married to a man of a rich 
and respectable family, and yet you ain’t satisfied. Now, I should raly 
like to know why you think so meanly of Mr. Morton. I’m sure he is 
a good-looking young man,, and always behaves and looks like a gentle- 
man, and I think it a great condescension in him to stoop so low as to 
take Ellen from our low station, and raise her to the merchant’s class ; 
and — ” 

“ Now stop, my dear,” said Mr. Selden ; “ for,” he continued, 
“ I acknowledge no distinction in society but that of merit. And, I do 
not believe that there is a young lady any where more meritorious than 
our dear Ellen. As to her person and features, they are of Nature’s 
most perfect workmanship, and her mind and disposition seem to be su- 
pernaturally prepared as a suitable tenant for a form so lovely as hers. 
Indeed, her very eyes bespeak the goodness of her heart. And now, I 


4 


EMMA MORTON. 


will tell you why I think Morton will make her a bad husband. In the 
first place, I think his mind is of a wicked turn, and, of course, if that 
is the case, there will be no harmony between them. And, in the sec- 
ond place, I see him always idling away his time either at some tavern, 
or on some party excursion of sport or pleasure, and, of course, that 
sort of conduct will not make our daughter happy. And, in the third 
place, I do not believe that he has any means to support her, and, of 
course, she cannot be happy with a man, who squanders away his time, 
and leaves her unprovided for. And, besides all these things, from what 
I have seen of his conduct I believe he is too fond of liquor.” 

“ Ah ! I now see, Mr. Selden,” said his wdfe, contemptuously, ‘‘the 
whole and sole ground of your objections, and that is because he won’t 
jine the Temperance society — that’s it. And you’re jest so by every 
body that won’t jine it. You think every body that won’t do that are 
bad members of society. But I’ll let you know, Mr. Selden, that I’m 
as good as you, although I’ve not jined it, because I have to take a little 
once in a while for the colic. And, I believe these temperance folks 
has been the cause of many people’s death, jest because they have been 
persuaded not to drink a drop unless it be recommended by a doctor, 
and before a doctor can see them to recommend it, they have died for 
want of it. But I’m not a going to be sich a fool for all the Temper- 
ance societies in the world, and you needn’t to think it. And — ” 

“ Oh ! my dear,” interrupted Mr. Selden, “ it is no use now for us to 
have any unpleasant words on this subject. We have given our consent 
to the match, and nothing remains now to be done but to have the mar- 
riage solemnized, and commend them to God.” 

The above is only a part of the last conversation that Mr. Selden and 
his wife had on the subject of their daughter’s marriage with Thomas 
J. Morton, the father of Emma, the heroine of our story. But it is be- 
lieved that the extract is amply sufficient to give a clew to the characters 
there introduced, and to the state of the Temperance cause then extant. 
But, it may not be out of place to add a few explanatory remarks rela- 
tive to each. Mr. Selden was a modest, hard-working, sensible, poor 
man, willing at all times, to make any sacrifice in his power for the good 
of his fellow creatures ; and, at the dawn of the Temperance reforma- 
tion, he heartily embraced and maintained its principles. But his lov- 
ing spouse was almost his opposite in every thing, except poverty. 
She was ignorant, idle, ambitious, petulant and “ colicky,” as she said; 
and, indeed, she was so much troubled with that disorder, and she would 
sometimes stagger and reel so much about the house, that some people 
thought she had taken too large a dose of her medicine. And at last it 


EMMA MOKTON. 


5 


proved to be a solemn fact, that the poor woman, to prevent the colick, 
chose to be a downright sot. And, of course, her love for the bottle, 
made her a great enemy to the cause of Temperance. And she had 
many coadjutors. For, at that early day of the Temperance reform, not 
one in a thousand believed that the human race could exist without a 
little once in a while ; and then, as now, interest, appetite and prejudice 
arrayed all their forces to eradicate the little Temperance tree of Heav- 
en’s planting. 

Ellen was all that her father said she was, and more too; but I will 
not weary the reader with one of those tedious, fanciful descriptions, 
w'hich authors generally give of their characters. Suffice it to say, that 
she partook of all her father’s good qualities, and none of her mother’s 
evil ones ; and to those were added an education of the first order, and 
a piety that embraced all the commendable graces and accomplishments 
of human life. 

Thomas J. Morton, was the only child of a respectable merchant of 
the city of New York ; and as only children generally are, he had been 
indulged in every way his heart could wish ; and when he attained to 
manhood, he was unfit for anything profitable to himself or useful to 
society ; and with the exception of a kind heart, and an obliging disposi- 
tion, Mr. Selden’s description of him was mainly true. But, in those 
days, it was not considered much improper to be intoxicated occasion- 
ally, and that habit of Morton’s had no weight on the mind of Mrs. 
Selden, whose sole object was to have her daughter marry a fortune ; 
and with all speed, she had her desire gratified. 

The day after his wedding Mr. Morton’s father took him and Ellen to 
live with him in his own splendid dwelling, where every thing exhibited 
marks of wealth and grandeur. After returning from the induction of 
her daughter into such magnificence, Mrs, Selden rated her husband 
roundly for having opposed her efforts to have Ellen so advantageously 
married. 

Ellen was well pleased with her husband’s family ; and a perfect har- 
mony and flow of good feeling and kindness, together with all the luxu- 
ries that wealth can give, seemed to be at her disposal ; and, for a few 
weeks, she was one of the happiest mortals on earth. But, Oh ! how 
short is the reign of earthly bliss. The usual hour for repose ar- 
rived, and her husband’s place was vacant. She begins to feel uneasy. 
Her mother-in-law inquires : 

“ What is the matter, dear Ellen ? You seem disturbed.” 

“ Oh ! nothing — much — I — ” 

“ Why, really, child,” said her mother-in-law, “ I never saw you 


6 


EMMA MORTON. 


SO restless before. I suppose you think it time for Thomas to come, 
don’t you.” 

‘‘ Well, I was thinking so,” said Ellen : “ he never stayed out so late 
before since I’ve been here,” she added, with a trembling voice. The 
clock then told eleven. 

‘‘ Why, that’s eleven o’clock,” said Mrs. Morton,” and I think we 
had better retire, my daughter ; Thomas will soon be home, and he has a 
key that will let him in at any time he comes. I feel sleepy, and I bid 
you good night, my child.” Then kissing her, she retired, and left Ellen 
in the parlor, where at first she thought she would remain until Thom- 
as came home. But, after waiting in tears until the clock struck three, 
she was so overcome with grief and anxiety, that she deemed it most 
prudent to retire to her chamber. At her bedside she sat down, and laid 
her aching head on her pillow, and bedewed it with her tears. At last 
she fell into a doze, from which she was aroused by a heavy noise on the 
floor. She sprang to her feet in an instant, in a state of alarm, and saw 
her husband who had just returned. Looking at him wildly, she ex- 
claimed: “Merciful Heavens ! why! what’s the matter, dear Thomas ? ” 

“ Oh ! nothing, my love,” he said ; “ I stumbled on this chair, that’s 
all. I’m not hurt, so take that, and be quiet ; ” and kissed her as he 
spoke. 

“ Oh I my dear Thomas,” she said, “ where have you been so late. 
I have been so uneasy about you.” 

“Why,” said he, “ It is not very late, my dear; ” and staggering to 
a chair, he sat down. By this time Ellen saw what was the matter with 
him, and, bursting into tears, threw herself on the bed, and wept aloud. 
As soon as possible, she composed herself and went to bed, with a res- 
olution to say the least she could on the painful subject. In the mor- 
ning, when she awoke, she found her husband, fully dressed, lying be- 
side her, fast asleep, on the top of the bed-clothes. 

She arose with an aching heart, and after performing the necessary 
toilet duties, repaired to the breakfast room, where she met the smiling 
faces of her mother and father-in-law ready to receive her. After ex" 
changing the usual morning salutations in the most cordial manner, they 
sat down to breakfast. And, although Ellen was dejected, the meal 
passed off in a kind of cheerful good humor. None mentioned Thomas’ 
name, or alluded to his being out so late the preceding night. After 
breakfast, Mr. Morton went to his store, and Mrs. Morton took Ellen 
by the arm, and walked into the parlor. 

“ Come, my dear,” said she, as she drew Ellen down on the rich sofa ; 
“ sit down, while I ask you to grant me a kind favor.” 


EMMA MORTON. 


7 


Oh ! my mother, name it,” said Ellen, and if it is in my power 
to grant it, be assured it is yours.” 

“Well, then, you know Thomas was out late last night, and you 
know the cause of it too,” said Mrs. Morton, with considerable emo- 
tion. “ Now,” she continued, “ what I wish you to grant me, is your 
kind influence to reclaim him from his evil habits.” 

“Oh! my dear mother,^’ said Ellen with tears in her eyes, “that 
is the very thing I wished you to help me to do, for I am sure he will 
break my heart if he continues in habits of inebriation.” 

“Ah! my dear,” said Mrs. Morton, “ I have been trying to keep him 
from liquor for many months ; and he just laughs at me, and says it is 
quite genteel and fashionable to take a spree, as he calls it, once in a 
while.” 

“ Well, my dear mother, I hope you will pardon me, but didn’t you 
say a few days ago, that it was right to drink a little once in a while ? ” 

“ Oh! but that’s a different thing from getting drunk, my love,” said 
Mrs. Morton, a little confused. 

“ But, suppose, mother, nobody would drink a little, once in a while, 
do you think that anybody would then ever get drunk ? ” inquired Ellen, 
with earnestness. 

“ Why, most assuredly not, my dear ; but I never thought of that be- 
fore,” replied Mrs. Morton, thoughtfully ; “ neither have I heard it sug- 
gested by our Temperance lecturers. But I see the force of your in- 
quiry. Yet, if one don’t drink a little occasionally, he will be called 
unfashionable.” 

“ Then, my dear mother,” said Ellen, with warmth of feeling, “ it 
seems that you would rather see my dear Thomas ruined by ebriety, 
than be called unfashionable.” 

“No, ho, no, my child,” replied Mrs. Morton ; “I will leave no effort 
untried that I believe will have the least tendency to reclaim him.” 

“ I have, then, my dear mother, a proposition to make,” said Ellen, 
“that I think will do some good; and that is, for you to banish from 
your house all intoxicating liquors ; and then I will use every means 
in my power to persuade him to abandon its use.” 

“ Well, really, that is a hard task ; but I will perform it, let the cost 
be what it may,” said Mrs. Morton, rising from the sofa. 

“ Then, I have great hope in our plans ; and, trusting in God for the 
result, I will go and see how poor Thomas is doing,” said Ellen, and 
tripped up stairs, with a buoyant step. 

She found her husband asleep just as she had left him, and fell on her 
knees, and implored the blessings of Heaven upon her plan. She be- 


8 


EMMA MORTON. 


came so deeply engaged that she raised her plaintive voice so high, that 
he heard her ; but he was so affected by her ardent invocations on his 
behalf that he remained silent, until she rose. He then sprang to the 
floor with tears in his eyes, and pressed her to his bosom, and ex- 
claimed : 

“ Oh ! dearest Ellen, I have wronged, greatly wronged you, and I 
now most humbly and earnestly ask your forgiveness, and sincerely 
promise never to do the like again.” 

Ellen fell into his arms, as he seated himself on the bedside, and wept 
for some time. At length she said : 

Oh ! my dear, dear Thomas, let us forget that dismal night with all 
its deeds of darkness, for it almost kills me to think of it , and I hope I 
shall never pass such another.” 

‘‘You shall not, dearest,, if I can prevent it, I assure you.” 

At the usual hour the bell called them to the dining-room. Here, 
every thing had undergone a close inspection, and all the pomp and fash- 
ion of drunkard-making had been banished from the house, as deadly 
enemies to the peace and happiness of the family. Thomas and his 
father witnessed the change, and thought it a good one, but said nothing 
about it. 

From that day onward, for several years, peace and joy reigned 
throughout the house, and Ellen’s time glided happily along, and 
blessed her with an interesting little girl that soon became the idol of 
all who knew her. But this sweet current of joy was at length inter- 
rupted by the sudden death of Mrs. Selden, who became so colicky at 
last, that one night, after her husband had gone to bed, she fell into the 
fire, and burned her head so badly that she died the next day in the 
most excruciating pains. And, in a few months after, poor Ellen was 
called to mourn the loss of her father also. The old gentleman d;ied like 
all good men die, on his bed, and in peace with all the universe of God. 
These bereavements were borne by Ellen, with meekness and resigna- 
tion. Her pious soul was prepared for adversity, as well as for pros- 
perity. But these wounds were not fully cicatrized, when the cholera 
in ’32, took her kind mother and father-in-law to the spirit land. 


EMMA MORTON. 


9 


CHAPTER 11. 

THE MYSTERIOUS OLD GENTLEMAN. 

Mr. Morton settled up his father’s estate, as soon as possible, but, un- 
fortunatelji, he soon saw that there would be nothing left after the debts 
were paid for his future support ; and, now, for the first time in his life, 
he found that he would have to depend upon his own resources. Truly, 
an appalling plight for a man with a family who knew as little about 
business as he did. He had, it is true, kept himself sober from the time 
that his mother banished liquor from her house until her death; but he 
had continued to spend his time in idleness, and in expectation of a for- 
tune from his father, so that by this turn in his father's affairs he was 
completely confounded. Even the family mansion, in which he had 
passed so many happy days and nights, was ordered to be sold, together 
with all the furniture ; and nothing but poverty and starvation for himself 
and family seemed to be his hapless doom. He wrung his hands in des- 
pair, and felt, that all his hopes of making his little Emma the greatest 
belle in New York, were completely blasted. 

“Good Heavens!” he exclaimed to himself, as he was walking home 
after learning from his lawyer this state of affairs, — “how can I en- 
dure all this, and how shall I be able to let my poor wife know it — and. 
Oh ! how it will wring her tender heart I And there is poor little Em — 
she must be a beggar girl 1 It cannot, it must not be so. Yet what can 
I do? I’ve no trade, and I am not qualified for a clerkship. Ah! I now 
but too clearly see, that my parents’ indulgence will prove my ruin. 
Had they taught me to work, or attend strictly to some business, I 
would still be independent ; but, as it is, I am one of the poorest mortals 
on earth.” 

By this time he had arrrived at his door, but he paused and shuddered 
at the thought of meeting his wife and child in poverty. Little Emma 
was playing in the hall with her fine doll ; but as soon as she saw her 
papa, she dropped it, and with a smiling face and extended hands, flew 
like a little fairy to meet him, and receive his caresses as usual. But 
instead of the cordial salutation, which on such occasions she had hereto- 
fore received, her father only groaned and staggered to the lounge, on 
which he sat down and rested his head upon one of its corners, The little 
creature seeing her father’s languid appearance, knew that her custom- 
ary greetings could do him no good, and she ran to her mother, exclaim- 
ing : “ Oh, ma ! come here ; pa is so sick, and I am afraid he will die 


10 


EMMA MORTON. 


like poor grand-ma and grand-pa did and then she broke out into a 
loud cry. But her mother was in too much haste to relieve her husband 
to stop to comfort her child, and in a moment she was by his side. He 
looked wildly at her, and she threw her arms around his neck, saying in 
a low melting voice : “ Oh ! my dear Thomas, what is the matter with 

you?” He gave a heavy sigh, but said nothing. My dear husband,” 
she added, “ are you sick ? Oh ! I fear you are getting the cholera. 
Shall I send for our physician ?” 

“No, no, no, dearest Ellen,” he said, mournfully, “If it were that I 
could bear it better than I can, the affliction that has befallen us, though 
it were to part us forever.” 

“Oh! my Heavenly Father,” she exclaimed, “have mercy! O! 
Thomas, what is the matter ?” And then wept aloud. He put his arm 
around her and said : 

“Let us withdraw to our chamber, and there I will tell you all.” 

They were soon seated in their room, with Emma at tlieir side. 
They looked at each other with affectionate and inquiring silence, and 
after drawing several deep sighs, he said : 

“ Well, my dear, we are now left to take care of ourselves, without 
the aid or advice of either of our parents, and how do you think we will 
succeed?” 

“ Why, my dear Thomas, that don’t trouble me at all; for that same 
good Being, who provided our kind parents for us, will provide for us still, 
and if we trust in Him, I know all wull be well with us,” said his wife, 
wuth reverential confidence. “ And,” she continued, “ if that’s all that 
troubles you, my dear, you have nothing to fear. We will aid and ad- 
vise each other, my Thomas ; and our friendship, will be sweeter than 
any other on earth.” 

“ Well, well — but — but my dear, how can w^e make a support?” he 
at kst stammered out. 

“ Why,” said his wife, “if we were left pennyless, God wmuld direct 
us to a way for that ; and I am sure, I should not be afraid or ashamed 
of work, if I had you and my dear Emma to partake with me in the 
fruits of my labors.” 

With looks of encouragement he pressed her to his breast, and said : 
“ My more than beloved, your meekness and fortitude excel my expec- 
tations ; but I have to try you still further : Suppose we are turned 
penniless out of this house, where will we go, or what will we do t^ 
obtain a living ? ” 

“ Why, my dear,” she replied, “ I should be happy any where with 
you and our dear Em. Let me have but your kind affections, my child, 


EMMA MORTON. 


11 


and the approbation of my Heavenly Father, and come w^hat may, I shall 
still be happy.” 

Morton’s face exhibited many hues, and his eyes overflowed with 
tears, and for a while he was choked with joy, at his wife’s consoling 
replies. At last he said : “ My dear Ellen, I have had a hard task to 

perform, but your affectionate answers have taken from it all its hard- 
ship.” Here he paused, and she looked kindly on him and said 

‘•Then, I presume, your suppositions are, in truth, realities ?” 

With a sigh he said : “They are indeed, my dear, and I hope you 
will strive to be resigned to our hard fate. I have kept the sad intelli- 
gence from you as long as I could. My father’s debts will consume all 
his property ; and the attorney for the creditors, has even ordered this 
house, and all the furniture for sale, this afternoon. And to-morrow. 
Oh ! what will become of us to-morrow ?” and throwing himself on the 
bed he wept for some time. 

Emma cried too; but his wife, pressing her face close to his, said in a 
silvery voice : “ Be calm, my dear Thomas ; we have health, and by 

God’s blessing, and our own endeavors, we can make our pathway 
smooth through life, and have the pleasure of building up our own for- 
tune. Come, look up, my dear, and hope that a brighter day is com- 
ing.” 

Her kind words and affectionate manner caused him to rise, and, ga- 
zing upon her with a sort of bewildered amazement, he said : 

“ My dearest and best of women, how can you have such regards for 
one who has thus beggared all your prospects ? ” 

“ You mistake, my dear,” said she : “while I have your affections, I 
am the richest of women; and, were it not for the pain our change of 
fortune throws upon you, I should deem this the happiest day of my life. 
I now, dear Thomas, have an opportunity to show you a wife’s devotion 
to her husband, for his own sake and not for the sake of his property. 
And with you I am ready to meet toil and danger, if I can only see you 
and my little Em happy. I can work at many things that will bring us 
in a few shillings.” 

“ And so can I, too,” said little Emma, whose quick perception had 
given her to understand the whole story. “I can do many things,” she 
continued, “ that will help you, papa, and I am willing to do all I can.” 

“ Bless you, dearest, they both exclaimed,” — and the bell of the auc- 
tioneer ringing for purchasers before the door, prevented them from ma- 
king any further remarks. 

Mr. Morton went down and invited them in as they arrived, and ex- 
hibited the furniture. Many of the visitors remarked that it had been 


12 


EMMA MORTON. 


well kept, but that it was mostly out of fashion, and that it would not 
bring much. The auctioneer opened a large iron safe, that stood in the 
library, and on pulling out one of the drawers, perceived a large package 
of papers in a crevice between them, and took it out. It was marked: 
“ Bills of Furniture,” and seemed to have been written for a long time 
He handed it to Mr. Morton, saying: “ Is this of any use, sir? ” 

“ I do not know, sir,” replied Mr. Morton, and took it aside and 
opened it. The first bill he examined was for a large amount of the 
furniture purchased in the name of James Moore, for Thomas J. Mor- 
ton, son of Thomas Morton. He then hastily perused them all, and 
found that every part of the furniture was included in those bills, and he 
handed them to his attorney, and asked his advice. After reading one, 
his attorney asked if they were all in the same name, to which Morton 
replied in the affirmative. “ Then,” said his attorney, “ if that’s the 
case, the furniture is all yours, and it cannot be sold for your father’s 
debts.” 

Morton’s heart leapt for joy, but the mystery about the affair perplexed 
him greatly. He had never heard his parents speak about it. Neither 
did he know who this James Moore could be. His lawyer showed the 
papers to the opposite attorney, who said : 

“ They amount to nothing, sir, and therefore I shall proceed with the 
sale.” 

By this time, the assemblage began to learn something about the mys- 
terious affair; and some that were interested, insisted that the sale should 
proceed, and some said not, and some said nothing. At last, by the or- 
der of the attorney for the creditors, the auctioneer put up the safe, and 
was crying it off*, when an old gentleman entered, almost breathless, 
exclaiming at the top of his voice : 

“ I say, Mr. auctioneer, stop this sale. It is all illegal, and I have 
ridden hard all day to come and tell you so. All this furniture belongs 
to young Mr. Morton. I was with Mr. James Moore when he bought 
it of the different persons mentioned in the bills that were taken at the 
time, and was requested by him to witness the fact, and I can prove it 
by tradesmen still in York, if you doubt my word.” The auctioneer 
paused, and the lawyer for the creditors inquired : 

“ Who is this James Moore mentioned in these bills ? ” 

‘‘ Ah sir ! ” said the stranger, “ I cannot tell you now who he is. At 
the time the bills were made he was a friend of old Mr. Morton’s.” 

The bidders thought the affair a strange one; and many said they 
would not bid any more, because they did not believe they could get a 
good title, and the lawyers agreed to stop the sale until the title could be 


EMMA MORTON. 


13 


investigated ; and ordered the auctioneer to put up the house for sale. 
— “ Well, gentlemen,” said the auctioneer, “ as w^e cannot sell the fur- 
niture, we will offer you this fine house and lot. Come, how much have 
we offered for it ?” 

“ Is the title clear ?” said one. 

Yes, sir,” said the crier. 

“Have you the title papers here? ” said another. 

“ Mr. Keen has them there,” said the auctioneer ; “ you can examine 
for yourself, sir.” 

“ Here, here they are,” said Mr. Keen ; “ come and look at them.” 

The gentleman stepped forward and read the deed, pausing as he read 
along, and after going through it, turned back to the description of the 
parties, and holding it towards the lawyer, said : 

“ How is this ? The deed is made by George Parsons to Thomas J. 
Morton, son of Thomas Morton. Surely this property belongs hona fide 
to the present occupant ; it never having belonged to his father, as this 
deed plainly shows.” 

“What! ” said Mr. Keen, “you certainly misconstrue the instrument, 
sir,” I read it, and did not notice any thing in it that would bear that 
construction.” 

“Well, sir,” said the other, “what construction do you put on the 
phrase : “ Thomas J. Morton, son of Thomas Morton ?” 

“ Why,” said Mr. Keen, in surprise, “ is that in the deed ? ” 

“ Most assuredly it is,” replied the other. “ Here, read for yourself, 
sir.” 

Mr. Keen took the deed, and found that it really was made to Thomas 
J. Morton, instead of his father, but said: 

“ The purchase money was evidently paid by the father, and there is 
no doubt that a court of equity will order the house to be sold for his 
debts.” 

“ Not so,” said the old gentleman who had stopped the sale of the fur- 
niture. “I am a witness that Mr. James Moore paid out of his own 
purse every cent of the consideration mentioned in that deed.” 

This closed the auction without selling any thing, and all persons, ex- 
cept the two lawyers, and the old gentleman withdrew. They held an 
interview with him, and he gave such reference as they afterwards 
found to be every way satisfactory and conclusive, in favor of the title 
to all the property being in Thomas J. Morton, and not in his late father. 
They all three then went out together, but Mr. Morton stepped to the 
door and called his lawyer and the old gentleman back, to have some 
conversation on the subject ; but very urgent business pressing the law- 


14 


EMMA MORTON. 


yer, he begged to be excused until evening ; and, assuring Morton that 
his title was good, he departed. And the old gentleman having to go 
with the law’yers to settle the title papers, he was also excused until 
evening. 

Mr. Morton with w’onder and joy returned to his chamber, and rela- 
ted to his wife the strange occurrences that had taken place in their fa- 
vor,. She partook in his joy, and little Emma expressed herself highly 
gratified to see her papa's face once more clothed in smiles. After an 
interchange of thoughts respecting the strange old gentleman, and their 
good fortune from his timely appearance, they proceeded to the supper 
table with pretty keen appetites ; and after satisfying themselves, Mrs. 
Morton observed, with a smile : 

“ Well, Thomas, after all, if it were not for your sake, I should regret 
our good fortune, for I had a great desire to show you how capable I am 
to maintain a family.” 

“Indeed, my dear, you may have that pleasure yet, for our title is not 
fully confirmed,” he replied. 

“ Indeed, I hope we may have to go some where else,” said Emma, 
“ for I want to show papa how I can work.” 

“ Oh, you little foolish creature ! what can you do ?” said her pa. 

“ Oh! I can do many things that mamma has taught me,” she replied, 
with a significant turn of the head. 

“ Well,” said Morton, “even if our title to the property is good, it 
w’ill only be sufficient to start us in some kind of business that will give 
us all something to do towards making a living.” 

The sound of the bell called Morton to the door, at which, a lad han- 
ded him two letters and departed. Mr. Morton returned to his family, 
and read one from his lawyer as follows : 

Dear Sir : — I am happy to say, that, after a close investigation of 
your title, in company with Mr. Keen and the stranger who appeared 
at your house to-day, we have concluded that the house and furniture 
are indisputably yours, and Mr. Keen has agreed so to report them to 
the creditors. 

Yours, respectfully, 

C. B. OoDEJf. 

“Thanks to the old gentleman for that,” said Mr. Morton. 

“Not so, my dear,” said his wife; “you should thank God for that. 
He is the prime mover in all such affairs.” 

“ Yes,” said Emma, “ he helped the old gentleman to come here, and 
forbid the sale.” 


EMMA MOKTON. 


15 


“Ah, you are just like your mother, child, giving God thanks for all 
good things,” said her father. 

a Why, pa, is not tliat right. The Bible says that every good and per- 
fect gift cometh down from God,” said she. 

“ Well, perhaps so,” said her father. “ But here is the other letter:” 
he then read as follows : 

Dear Sir : — You will please have the goodness to excuse me for not 
visiting you this evening. I have done you all the good I can, and my 
business now calls me home. Good-bye. 

Yours, 

The Old Gentleman. 

“ Well, now, is he not a strange sort of a man ? ” said Morton. 

“ Indeed, I should like to know more about him,” said his wife. 

“ Pa, how did he look ?” inquired Emma. 

“ Why, my dear, with his eyes, just like other people do,” replied 
her pa. 

“ Oh ! you know what Emma means. Tell the child what she wants 
to know,” said her mother. 

“ Well, Em, he looked like a countryman, about fifty five years of 
age, and I saw nothing else distinctive in his appearance. And now let 
us retire,” said Morton. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE TEMPERANCE MEETING THE HOTEL BLACKWOOD. 

The next day being the Sabbath, they attended church, and heard a 
discourse on Temperance. The faithful man of God took for his text: 
“Drink no more water, but take a little wine for thy stomach’s sake, 
and often infirmity.” The reader will readily imagine the kind of 
a sermon which was preached from this text, if he has a description of 
the preacher. Then, cast your eyes to the pulpit. See it occupied by a 
corpulent, florid-faced man, the very picture of one that fares sumptu- 
ously every day, whose very countenance and gesture, show that he is 
more anxious to please the people than he is to please his God. Such a 
man of course would say nothing against the use of wine or the fashion- 


4 


16 


KMMA MORTON. 


able use of strong drink. He must of necessity, though, denounce 
drunkenness. “ But to take a little once in a while was what the scrip- 
tures meant by Temperance; but that inebriety was a great sin,” he said, 
“ and that it did a great deal of mischief. But,” he continued, ‘‘ because 
some will drink to excess, that is no reason why others should not drink 
at all. God has made and put all things around us, for our own use, 
and we should use and not abuse them. Some things are to try our 
faith, and some things are to try our appetites, and he requires us to gov- 
ern our appetites by reason. If we were to abandon the use of God’s 
creatures our reason would gain no victory over our appetites.” With 
this sort of stultiloquence he kept the audience together the customary 
time, and most of his hearers were well pleased with his discourse, for 
in that day the Temperance cause was very unpopular, and his sermon 
added much to its unpopularity. 

On their way home, Morton felt desirous to know his wife’s opinion 
of the sermon, but he was disinclined to ask her. And she thought it 
was so well calculated to make drunkards, that she did not like to intro- 
duce the subject. And Emma, who was conversant with her Bible, was 
busily engaged in comparing some of the particular parts of the sermon 
with verses that she could recollect, and thus they went home without 
interchanging a sentence on the mighty effort of the learned man. 

Being seated in the parlor, after dinner, with Emma on one side, and 
his wife on the other, Morton thought he would venture an inquiry, 
and taking his wife by the hand, ‘he said: “ What do you think of the 
sermon we heard this morning ? ” ^ 

“ Well, I think very ill of it ; and I believe all such sermons are just 
calculated to spread misery over the land, and populate the regions of 
dark despair,” replied Mrs. Morton, mournfully. “ And now,” she 
added : ‘‘ I would like to know your opinion of it ? ” 

a Why, dear Ellen, I thought it was just such a sermon as every 
preacher of this day of the Temperance humbug ought to deliver,” said 
Morton, with a laugh. 

Emma looked into his face, and said : “ Pa, the preacher said it was 

right to drink a little once in a while; now do you think it is ? ” she in- 
quired. 

“ Why, yes, my dear,” he answered. 

Well, pa,” she asked, ‘‘is not that the way people learn to be drunk- 
ards ? ” 

“ Well, I suppose it is,” said her father, thoughtfully ; “ but — but, 
they should call in their reason to keep them from becoming drunkards, 
my child. 


S 


EMMA MOKTON. 


17 


“ Well, pa, would it not be better for them to call in their reason to 
keep them from drinking any at all,” she said, artlessly. 

He looked earnestly at her with an inquiring eye, and said : “ Why, 

Em, what are you thinking about ? ” 

“Why, pa,” she answered, “I am thinking about many things that the 
preacher said this morning, that do not seem right, to me, and I want 
you to tell me if they are.” 

“ Well,” said he, “ what are they ? ” 

“ Why,” said she, “ the preacher said that God had made and put all 
things around us for our use. Now, I always thought that liquors were 
made by the distillers and brewers, and th^t God never made such bad 
things ; and, even if he did, I do not believe he made them for people to 
drink any more than he made bilge water for them to drink.” 

“ Oh ! you little foolish child ! you don’t know what you are talking 
about,” said her father. 

“ Well, now,” said his wife, “ I think she has evinced more sense 
than the preacher did this morning, on that very point in his discourse. 
“You recollect,” she added, “when he was speaking of the Lord’s 
trying our faith. I thought him very lame there, for I am sure it would 
be a greater victory for our reason to keep us from drinking any at all, 
than it is for it to let us drink once in a while, as he said, and thereby 
run the risk of becoming drunkards ; and, I feel confident, that the only 
safe ground for us is to abstain from all sorts of intoxicating liquors ; 
and, until the Temperance party come out boldly on that platform, I be- 
lieve they will do no good now. They commenced in the right way, 
probably ; for when they began the Temperance reform, the public 
mind was so benighted on the subject, that if they had taught total ab- 
stinence from all intoxicating liquors — which I think they are beginning 
to teach now — I believe no body would have heard them. But by the 
course they took at first, they induced an inquiry on the public mind, 
which has resulted in good.” 

“ Why, my dear,” said her husband, with a smile of seeming surprise, 
“ I really believe I’ll have to send you out to lecture on Temperance ! 
Where did you learn so much about it ? ” 

She sighed, and her face changed color, and her eyes suffused with 
tears, as she said : “ At home, with my dear unfortunate mother.” 

Emma flew round to her mother, and throwing her little arms around 
her neck, kissed away her tears ; and Morton caught them both in his 
arms, and pressed them to his breast. 

“ Come, dearest,” said he, “ let’s talk about something else. As I 
have had opportunity, I have been studying on our affairs, and formed a 
2 — 




18 


EMMA MOETON. 


sort of a plan for our future course.” He then paused a moment and 
proceeded: “ I have thought that if we will sell our house and take 
our furniture to some inland town, and open a respectable hotel, we can 
do a good business, and make a good living.” A long pause followed. 
At last his wife said : 

Will you keep a Temperance hotel ? ” 

He laughed out, and said : ‘‘A Temperance hotel ! Why, who un- 

der the heavens ever heard of such a thing before. Why, you might as 
well talk about a world without a sun, as to talk about a hotel without a 
bar ! ” 

I had rather you could follow some other kind of business, my dear ; 
but you are head, and I must not oppose your wishes. But Oh 1 I fear 
it will prove a bad business for us both,” said his wife, sorrowfully. 

“And for me, too,” said Emma, with her head in steadfast thought- 
fulness. 

“I am sorry, my dear,” said Morton, “that I have been raised up to 
no sort of business ; and I don’t know any thing that I can attend to so 
well as I can to a hotel, and I hope you will consent, and join me hear- 
tily in the business, and I fully believe we can do well at it.” 

“ There is but one thing I fear in that business, my dear Thomas,” 
she said, with a flushed cheek and a palpitating heart : “ and that” — she 
paused. 

“ Be easy about that, my dear,” he said; “ I know what you mean. I 
have reason and resolution, and you need not fear that I will ever be- 
come a drunkard. I love you and our dear Em too well ever to throw 
myself away and ruin you both, in that foolish, brutal manner.” They 
all three then clung together in a trio of love and happiness, and the 
business was soon agreed upon, that, as soon as a purchaser could be 
procured, the house should be sold, and a hotel opened. And a few 
months after, “ Morton’s hotel ” stood in high repute in one of the lar- 
ger towns in the upper part of the State of New York. A large and 
genteel run of visitors attended his bar, and all the fashionable parties 
favored him with their patronage. You might have seen at all hours of 
the day and night, the old drinker and the young beginner in the road 
to ruin, step up to his bar for a fashionable glass of poison. The old 
would swallow it with delight, and smack their lips together, and the 
young would look at it as forbidden fruit, and then drink it with wry 
faces, until they burned their natural taste into compliance with a ruin- 
ous fashion. And in less than a year, all the inhabitants of the town 
saw that a large portion of the sober young men had become worthless 
sots. Many parents, sisters and wives, wept over the wrecks which 


EMMA MORTON. 


19 


Morton^s hotel had made. Some of them had become so low and aban- 
doned in a few years, that Morton considered them a disgrace to his 
house, and he forbid their calls. 

One afternoon, a young lad, of one of the highest families in town, 
stepped up to his bar for his usual glass of brandy toddy, and after tak- 
ing another and another, until he became a nuisance in the room, Morton 
put him out of doors, and ordered him away with dreadful threats of 
punishment if he dver came into his house again. The lad started off 
but he was so drunk that he fell in the street, and could not rise. Em- 
ma returning from school, saw him, and knew who he was, and she 
stopped and called him by name, but he could not answer. She ran to 
her mother, with tears in her eyes, and said : 

“ Oh ! ma, there is poor George Blackwood out yonder, lying dead, I 
believe in the street, with his nose all bloody ; and I called him, and 
shook him, but he could ndt answer me. O ! do let James go and 
bring him in, poor fellow.” 

‘‘ Well, hush my dear, and do not let your pa know it, and I will,”' 
said her mother. 

George was brought in, washed, and put away in a private room, un- 
known to Mr. Morton, until he became sober and went home. His 
revel was made known to his parents, and they became highly incensed 
at Morton, and used all their influence to break him up. Indeed, they 
had a strong party on their side, for many saw and felt the ruin that his 
hotel had brought upon their town. When Morton became acquainted 
with the treatment George had received from his wife, he was much 
pleased with it ; and he had good reasons for being so, for it greatly al-^ 
layed the opposition of old Mr. Blackwood towards him. A few morn- 
ings after Mrs. Morton’s kindness to George, his father, before it was 
likely that any of Morton’s customers had assembled, called on him for 
the purpose of remonstrating against the course he had pursued towards 
his son. Morton was behind his bar, adjusting his decanters, and his 
other furniture in their most inviting positions, and little Emma was 
washing the glasses in the most expert manner, when the door opened 
and George’s father stepped in. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Morton,” said he, in a rather confused tone of 
voice. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Blackwood, I am happy to see you,” said Mor- 
ton with his usual smile. “ It is a fine morning, sir. Come, sit down,” 
he added. 

Mr. Blackwood was looking attentively at Emma, and unheeding 
Morton’s remark, said : “ Why, my sweet little Miss, how dexterously 


20 


EMMA MORTON. 


you can handle those glasses ! But I fear they will make you feel sor- 
rowful some of these days.’^ 

“ O ! sir,” said she, artlessly, “ I was made sorry by them the other 
day, when a poor young lad got drunk out of them, and behaved rudely, 
and pa had to turn him out of doors, and ” — 

‘‘ Hush, child 5 you must not let your little tongue run so freely, when 
gentlemen are talking,^^ said her father. “ Come, sir,” he added, turning 
to Mr. Blackwood, “ Come, sit down.” 

‘‘ Excuse me,” said he, “ I merely called in this morning, on what I 
feel to be very unpleasant business. I have learned that my son George 
was here a few days ago, and conducted himself indecorousl}", and that 
you had to turn him out of your house. Has he frequented your house 
often ? ” 

Morton colored, and felt that he had done wrong in selling liquor to 
young lads, but replied with the best grace he could, that “ George had 
not been there often.” 

Well, sir,” said Mr. Blackwood, “I feel that you have done me a 
■great injury by permitting my son to come into your house at all.” 

“ Why, sir ? ” said Morton, ‘‘ I keep a respectable house, and all the 
elite in town visit me.” 

“Yes, sir,” said Blackwood, “I know that, and that’s just what 
makes your house the most dangerous one in our community. In a 
house like yours, all the unthinking and unguarded youth of a place as- 
semble, for the sake of fashion, and learn to be wassailersj and when 
they become temulent, and rude, and vulgar, they are then prohibited 
from your first rate bars, and then they descend to the second rate ; and 
soon they get too low for that, and then they are driven down to the third 
rate ; and from that down to the filthy fourth rate — where they generally 
end their miserable lives in degradation and pain.” 

Well,” said Morton, “I must admit that you have drawn a picture 
that in many respects is true ; but we who pay heavy licenses, are not to 
blame for all the evils of drunkenness ; man you know is a free rational 
agent, and should let his reason govern his appetite.” 

“ Mr. Morton,” interrupted Blackwood, ‘‘it is useless to talk of rea- 
son in this matter, unless reason will prevent us from taking the first 
drop 5 for when a man feels the least effect of liquor on his brain, reason 
can have no control over the appetite.” 

“Well, I believe that is pretty true,” said Morton; “but 1 cannot see 
how this evil is to be prevented.” 

“ Why,” said Blackwood, “by discontinuing this fashion of bar-keep- 
ing.” 


EMMA MORTON. 


21 


“ Well,” said Morton, “ that might diminish the evil some. But 
there are other places where drunkards are made as well as in the bar- 
rooms of hotels. I allude to the bars in family circles, sir ; and, if you 
want the land redeemed from drunkenness, all the family bars must be 
abolished ; and, I believe, in this work most every family will have 
something to do. It was at one of these bars, sir, I learned the woeful 
habit of drinking, which I now begin to fear, if liquor is kept in the land, 
will prove my ruin, in spite of all the reason and resolution that I can 
command. And, sir, when my parents banished liquor from their house, 
on a suggestion of my dear wife, the habit of drinking was so strongly 
fastened upon me that I have never been able to relinquish it, and I 
now find that it grows daily upon me. And, sir, I believe that nine- 
tenths of all the drunkards in existence first acquired the habit of 
drinking at. the family bar. And while they are kept open, if all the 
hotel bars in the world were closed, ebriosity will still exist. I have no 
doubt of this, sir ; for since I have kept this house, I have occasionally 
had some compunctions of conscience about my line of business, and 
they have been quieted solely by the fact that most of the young gentle- 
men who have visited me had learned to drink at the family bar, and 
then came to mine to indulge in larger potations than they were allowed 
at hom&. And yet, sir, the hotel keeper is blamed by the parents of these 
same young men, for granting indulgences to that appetite which they 
themselves had fastened upon theii* children, and which had been drawn, 
as it were, from their erring mother’s breasts.” 

These remarks had great weight on the mind of Mr. Blackwood, and 
he knew they were true. For he had until a very short time before, 
kept a family bar in his own house, and banished it solely because he 
saw it was leading his son to ruin. And, furthermore, although he had 
wholly abandoned the use of liquor himself, yet, his good wife, like 
many other good wives, always kept the article about the house for med^ 
icinal and culinary purposes. In view’ of these facts, he thought Mr. 
Morton was somewhat excusable for the manner in which he had treat- 
ed his son George, and under this state of mind, he said : 

“ Well, Mr. Morton, I must confess that I think you have pretty cor- 
rect views of this momentous subject, and I wish every body else would 
look at it as you do ; but to come to the point, for my business calls me 
away, I wish you would not let my son have anything more to drink at 
your bar ; and I wish also that you would tender my thanks to your 
family, for the kind attentions they bestowed upon him in his hour of 
disgrace. And you, my dear little Miss,” he added, stepping up to 
Emma, who had stood all the time with her sweet eyes beaming upon 


22 


EMMA MOKTON. 


him j I am told interceded for my temulent boy ; here is a little 
present I have brought you for your kindness. Take this, and remem- 
ber that virtue always gains its reward.’’ He then presented her a 
splendid little gold watch and chain, and departed. She was delighted 
with the gift, and showed it to her pa, who pronounced it an elegant af- 
fair, and told her to take it to her ma. This was useless , for it was 
always the delight of her soul to let her ma share her joys. They were 
all pleased with the motto, beautifully engraved on the back : “ Virtue 
always gains its reward and G. B.” below" it. Emma was well 
grown at this time ; and her unfolding loveliness of person and features 
began to be the theme of all her acquaintances, and her sweet disposi- 
tion, and acquired as well as natural abilities, seemed to keep pace with 
her personal endowments. She had ever been an attentive hearer of 
what was said in her presence, and the remarks she did not comprehend, 
were as soon as possible presented to her mother for explanation. She 
had listened attentively to the conversation between Mr. Blackwood 
and her father ; and his remark that he feared liquor would prove his 
ruin, sunk into her heart like molten lead, for she had noticed for some 
time, that he had often treated her mother and herself with unusual 
crossness. And, sometimes she had noticed a silent tear fall from her 
mother’s eye, but a desire to conceal it from the daughter’s sight, had 
prevented the mother from being asked the cause. But, the day after 
this remark had been made by her father, she saw her mother hang down 
her head and wipe her eyes. She run to her and threw her arms 
around her neck, saying : 

‘‘ Oh ! dear ma, I have noticed before that you are sometimes in 
trouble, and that you strive to conceal it from my sight. O ! conceal it 
no longer, dear ma, but let your Emma know the cause, so that she 
may share with you your load of grief.” 

Surprised at the w^omanly manner and question of her daughter, Mrs. 
Morton pressed her to her bosom, and said : 

“ My dear child, your affection and good sense deserve better treat- 
ment from me than I have manifested towards you in concealing the 
cause of my grief. But I have done so in prder to keep your kind heart 
light and easy as long as possible.” 

‘‘ Ah ! my dear mother, think not that my heart can be light and easy 
while I see you shed tears in secret. I know I am young, but I am old 
enough to sympathize with my dear mother, when she has a cause for 
weeping. When she weeps, her Em cannot laugh. When she mourns, 
her Em cannot sing. You are all in all to me in this world. For pa 
has grown so cross to me for some time past, that I do not think he loves 


EMMA MORTON. 


23 


me like he formerly did. But you, dear ma, seem unchanged ; and I be- 
lieve jmu love me still. And, I think, therefore, we should be in per- 
fect confidence with each other. And,., I hope you think so too, and 
that hereafter you will let me know and sympathize with you in all 
things. And, be assured, I never will betra^ you.” 

‘‘ O ! my daughter,” said Mrs, Morton; “ from this time, I shall look 
on you as a competent adviser, as well as a most afiectionate daughter. 
And, now, I will tell you the cause of my grief. For more than two 
years your father has been in the habit of coming to bed in a state of 
intoxication, and all I can say to him seems to do no good, although he 
promises me every time that he will not get drunk again. I have tried 
to persuade him to quit this busine&s, believing that if he were away 
from liquor he would not drink so much ; but I fear the habit has so 
strong a hold on him now, that he will drink, let him be where he may.” 

Well, indeed ma,” said Emma, “ I fear so too, and I believe he fears 
it as much as either of us, for I heard him tell Mr. Blackwood yester- 
day, that he feared liquor would be his ruin.” 

“Good Heavens ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Morton, “what a strong infatu- 
ation it must be on people, when they see, and know, and feel,' the ruin- 
ous effects of liquor, on all that concerns them, and still to use it. O ! 
Em, I fear that the peace and joy of our family is forever gone.” 

“ O ! dear ma,” said Emma, “ may we not hope. St. Paul says that 
all things shall work together for good to them that love God. And 
now, I am sure we love God, and then if we believe his word we have 
good ground for hope. . Drunkards are sometimes reclaimed, are they 
not, ma ? ” 

“Yes, sometimes, my dear,” said her mother; “ we hear of one out 
of a thousand who has abandoned the use of liquor ; but such cases are 
so rare, that we can draw but little hope from that source.” 

“ Well, ma,” said Emma, “ to-morrow is Sunday, and at night there 
is to be a Temperance lecture in church ; let us try to get pa to go and 
hear it — perhaps it may do him some good.” 

“ Well, we will try, Em,” said her mother ; “ but I do not think he 
will go.” And neither would he, when the evening arrived, and time 
passed on. 

“ Well, Ellen, is that vest ready? ” said Mr. Morton in an impatient 
tone, one evening, as he came in hastily. 

“ Not quite, my dear, yet ; but I’ll soon have it ready for you,” said 
Mrs. Morton meekly. 

“ That’s just the way with you, now-a-days. I never can have any- 
thing done in time. I told you that I expected a party of gentlemen to- 


24 


EMMA MORTON. 


night, and that I wanted it by six o’clock, so that I could assist the bar- 
keeper,” said Morton, angrily. 

“ Why, dear pa, it is not six o’clock yet,” said Emma, with one of her 
sweet smiles. 

“ Hold your tongue. Miss ! ” he replied snappishly ; and left the room, 
adding as he went: you may now wear it yourself.” 

Mrs. Morton and Emma both burst into tears with great sorrow, and 
felt almost ready to sink in despair. They saw that Morton had been 
drinking more freely that day than usual, and that as he increased in 
drunkenness he grew more cross. They composed themselves as soon 
as they could, and proceeded with their work , and before six, Emma 
went for her father to come and put on his vest, but he gruffly refused, 
and ordered her badk to her mother. 

Poor child ! She went back with a heavy heart, for her ears and eyes 
had never seen or heard him in such a mood before. She met her moth- 
er with streaming eyes and a sorrowful heart, and told what her father 
had said ; and then they both sat down to deplore their sad fate, whieh 
seemed bereft of the last hope for his reformation. The day closed 
over their heads ; and after waiting for a long time for Mr. Morton to 
come for his vest, they retired to Mrs. Morton’s bed-chamber to await 
his arrival at bed time. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE FREE AND EASY THE FIRE AND ESCAPE. 

To the habit of intoxication, Mr. Morton had added that of gambling , 
and by his frequent losses his little fortune was well nigh spent. But 
still he was always ready and willing to join in all the parties that assem- 
bled at his house, and.be a boon companion among them. And the party 
he referred to, when he spoke to his wife about his vest, was one of the 
Free and Easy clubs that was to meet at his house that night for their 
usual revel. At one of these clubs every member must take his turn 
to sing a song, tell a story, or treat the company, beginning with the 
president ; and, having assembled that night according to appointment 
in Mr. Morton’s large room kept for the purpose, the president ordered 
the waiter to bring in some liquor. 


EMMA MORTON. 


25 


“ What shall I bring, Mr. President,” said the waiter. 

“ O ! a dozen of champagne will do, I suppose, to begin with,” said 
the president. 

Come, Mr. President, let us have your song, while the wine is 
coming,” said A. 

“Well, now that’s really out of place, to call for a song before one has 
wetted his pipes. I do emphatically pronounce that call out of order. 
I cannot sing yet, but I will tell you a joke,” said the president. 

“ Well, let us have it,” cried out a dozen voices at once. 

“ Well, then,” said the President : I am informed that there will be 

a Temperance meeting in Church to-morrow night, and that 

the public are invited to attend.” 

“ Well, I think we had better go and sing for them,” said B. 

“ I guess we had, for I think we could draw a larger congregation 
than any of the lazy loafers who want to make an easy living by de- 
livering Temperance lectures,” said D. 

“ I think they had better go to work and mind their own business, and 
let people eat and drink what they please,” said E. 

“That’s exactly my opinion,” said Morton; “for I cannot see what 
good they can ever do while the traffic is legalized by statute.” 

“ What I ” said F., “ do you think the traffic illegal.” 

“ No, sir, but I think it should be made so,” said Morton. 

“ Ah ! Mr. Morton, you are one of those who wish to unite Church 
and State, I suppose,” said G. 

“ The Church be d — d,” said Morton; “that’s composed of a set of 
hypocrites, who wish to promote their own popularity, from the minister 
down. I am for relieving mankind from the vilest curse of all curses, 
that of first taking away his senses, then his property, and last his life ; 
and while this game is going on daily in our midst, the church members 
join with others, and say that the question of Temperance is purely a 
moral question, and that our Legislature has no right to legislate upon it. 
But, here comes the wine.” 

“ Come, gentlemen,” said the president : “ let’s join in a drink, and 
then I’ll sing my song.” They all filled up their glasses, and drank, 
“ To the memory of old Toby Fillpot ; ” after which the President fa- 
vored the club with “ The glasses sparkle on the board.” Dr. H. then 
said : 

“ Come, gentlemen, fill up, and let’s drink to the president’s health, 
for his appropriate song.” This done, the president called on Dr. H. for 
his song. 

“ Now, you have me,” said the doctor. “ You know that I am not 


26 


EMMA MORTON. 


capable of complying with your demand, though I have a tongue as keen 
as a lancet.” 

“Welh then, tell us a story,” said the president ; and that will do.’ 

“ Well, by speaking of the tongue, I was reminded of an ancdote that 
occurred in Kentucky. In the city of Lexington there lived a man 
whose tongue was hung in the middle to let it play at both ends, and 
everybody said he could out-talk any Frenchman that could be found. 
At length, he and a French dancing master met at a ball, and a heavy 
bet was made, that the dancing master could out-talk the Kentuckian, 
and after the judges were appointed they commenced their windy com- 
bat. Hour after hour passed away, and they still kept talking with un- 
abated vigor, and they continued their warfare until the morning of the 
fourth day, when the poor Frenchman lay dead on the floor, with the 
Kentuckian kneeling over him, whispering in his ear.” Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
filled the room at the close of this story. 

“ Come, gentlemen,” said the president, “ let’s have a drink, and I 
propose Old Kentuck.” 

“ Hurra for Old Kentuck,” said Captain J., who was a native of that 
gallant state. 

‘‘ At this time, Morton proposed to have a game of loo, and several of 
the company agreed to the proposition, and withdrew to another table to 
play, while the remainder of the party continued their song-singing, jo- 
king and story-telling ; in the course of which they indulged in the 
most ludicrous, obscene, vulgar and senseless songs, jokes, and sto- 
ries that can be imagined, and which none but those whose eyes and 
ears are under the degrading influence of alcohol, could hear without 
turning sick. The party at the card table soon won all Morton’s money, 
and then laid him safely aw’ay on a lounge dead drunk. At a late hour, 
the president proposed to join in singing “ Auld Lang Syne,” and then 
adjourn. With their senses all benumbed, they arose to their stagger- 
ing feet, and commenced their favorite closing song. Just at that time, 
Colonel M. accused General P. of slipping a card ; to which the Gene- 
ral replied : 

‘‘ It’s a d — d lie, sir.” The Colonel staggered to his feet, and gave 
the General such a blow on the side of his head, that it brought both 
of the drunken officers to the floor together, the General on the top, 
who, in a moment, drove a dagger into the Colonel’s breast. In an in- 
stant all were in confusion. The cry of “ murder, murder” was heard ; 
the song was stopped ; the tables upset ; glasses broken, and a general 
row in full blast. Some were for the Colonel, some for the General, and 
some were so drunk that they could be for neither. Morton was too 


EMMA MORTON. 


27 


deeply buried in his drunken sleep to hear what was going on. The 
bar-keeper tried to restore order, but he was soon compelled to fly. 
The whole house was in a state of alarm, but none knew what to do. 
Mrs. Morton and Emma were still sitting up with tearful eyes and ach- 
ing hearts, but they knew that they dare not interfere. Doctor H., at 
last, having been able to reach the Colonel and feel his pulse, exclaimed 
in a loud voice : 

“ Good Heavens ! gentlemen, cease your strife. The Colonel is a 
dead man, and now what shall we do? We will all be tried for mur- 
der.” 

This exclamation, which was heard by all, brought them somewhat to 
their senses, and they all turned their attention to the Colonel. What 
now is to be done? was the general inquiry. Some proposed one 
thing, and some another , and they all agreed that it would be disgrace- 
ful to all parties, to let it be known that the Colonel had been killed 
there ; and yet, if he were really dead, that fact would have to be made 
public. 

“ Examine again. Doctor,” said the president. 

The Doctor made another examination, and to the great relief of all, 
he said, that : “ The Colonel breathed, and that if he were quietly re- 
moved, and his wound dressed, might perhaps be saved. On this an- 
nouncement, they placed him on a lounge and carried him half a block 
below to the Doctor’s office, and Morton’s house was vacated by all the 
drunken club except Morton himself. The Colonel’s friends went to the 
Doctor’s, and the rest of the club wandered about the town for a while, 
to have sport in the streets, by disturbing the orderly part of the citi- 
zens, as they had done on former sprees. But the Colonel’s case met 
them on every turn with such a dread of the gallows, that they soon re- 
tired to their respective homes 

After the party left Morton’s, his bar-keeper returned to the room of 
revelry, where he found everything in confusion. Morton had just be- 
gan to wake from his drunken sleep. The bar-keeper began to set 
things a little to rights, wffien Morton arose and inquired the cause of 
the confused state of the apartment. The other related all that had 
taken place ; but Morton was so stupefied with liquor that he knew not 
what he was about, or what he heard, and he simply directed the bar- 
keeper to close the house and retire. After he had retired, Morton 
looked round and saw a piece of candle burning under a calico covered 
lounge, in a distant corner of the room, and advanced to extinguish it. 
But a few steps brought him to the blood of the Colonel, which lay in a 
large quantity on the floor. He paused to look at it, and turned pale as 


28 


EMMA MOKTON. 


he viewed its wide-spread surface. He walked round it, and examined 
its depth, and his whole frame began to tremble. 

What on earth ! ” he said to himself, “ makes me so nervous ? Can it 
be that — that blood frightens me ! Why, I did not shed it ! I shed it — I 
shed it — O ! no, I did — not — shed it — but I sold the liquor that caused it 
to flow. That’s nothing to me — I pay for a license to sell it ; and while 
the laws of my country authorize me to do that, I am not to blame if it 
sheds all the blood in Christendom. The curse has been brought upon us 
by law, and until the strong arm of the law takes it off, reason and reso- 
lution will exert their power in vain. If our government is too weak 
to remove from us the burthens it imposes on us, we had better have no 
government at all. But who shed this blood ? Why, our government. 
But who makes our government ? Aye, there’s the rub. I voted for 
our present rulers, and persuaded others to vote for them, too. Oh ! 
what a deluded people we are! But I wish I had not seen this blood, 
the heart’s blood of a fellow creature. I suppose it is strong with li- 
quor — a brute’s blood could not be thus. O ! horrid I^horrid I sight — a 
man’s blood defiled with alcohol! It must be cleansed up forthwith. 
I’ll go and call James and have it done.*’ So saying, he took the light, 
and went as he intended for James, without thinking any more of the 
piece of candle under the lounge. When he went into the bar-room 
where James slept, a hasty rap on the front door called his attention, 
and he opened it and received the following note; 

Dear Morton : — Please step down to my office, immediately. I have 
something of great importance to us both, to communicate. 

In haste, yours, 

Dr. H. 

Morton, after reading the above, feared that the death of the Colonel 
would lead him into difficulties ; and therefore, in his perturbation of 
mind, he now forgot James as well as the piece of burning candle, and 
hasted down to the Doctor’s. 

Well, Morton,” said the Doctor, “I am glad to see you so quick. I 
fear we will all get into a dreadful snarl about our spree to-night, and 
think the sooner we can meet and have some understanding with each 
other, the better ; for although the Colonel is not dead yet, I am sure that 
he cannot live until noon to-morrow j and his most particular friends that 
came with him to my office haye agreed to call the club together immedi- 
ately, for the purpose of consultation. Some of them are already in my 
parlor ; and if you are willing to meet with us you will please walk in 
there and await the arrival of the others. 


EMMA MORTON. 


29 


“ Why, Doctor,” said Morton, “I feel altogether clear of any censure 
for the death of the Colonel. For, as you and all the others well know, 
I was fast asleep when the sad occurrence took place ; but still, as it 
happened in my house, it may not be amiss for me to meet with you, and 
therefore I feel no hesitation in awaiting their attendance.” 

He then, with thoughts of his degradation, of his wife, of Emma, of 
the evil effects of the use of liquor, and of the probable consequences of 
the night^s debauch, entered the Doctor’s parlor. There, in consultat on 
with the club he remained, until the appalling cry of “ Fire, fire, 
fire,” sounded from street to street. In an instant he sprang to his feet, 
exclaiming : 

“ O! I forgot the piece of burning candle. It is my house.” 

With unparalleled speed, he ran home and found his exclamation true. 

The consuming flames had just burst through the roof over the room 
which was so deeply stained with blood, but the inside of the house was 
almost entirely filled with flame and smoke. The inmates below suc- 
ceeded in escaping without much difficulty, but those above were not so 
fortunate. The fire having commenced in an upper room, it spread with 
rapidity, and soon filled all the halls and stair-ways with suffocating and 
burning vapor. When Morton arrived he met James, who exclaimed : 

“O ! sir, I fear that Mrs. Morton and Emma will be burned up. We 
cannot get up stairs, for the smoke and flame.” 

“ Stand away. I’ll get up or perish in the attempt,” said Morton, 
hastily. 

‘‘You cannot save them, sir,” exclaimed a voice in the crowd. 

“I will, or die with them ! ” he replied, and rushed up the steps with 
lightning’s speed. He gained the second story, but found it worse than 
madness to attempt to gain his wife’s door from that flight of steps. He 
then hasted to the back flight, which he knew led directly to his wife’s 
apartment. Through smoke and flame he plunged along to the chamber 
door, and broke it open. To his surprise he found his wife fast asleep, 
and he cried out, “ Fire, fire, fire! ” She awoke in such terror that she 
fainted instantly in his arms. “ Emma, Emma, fire, fire ! ” he called out 
at the top of his voice ; and wrapping a blanket around his wife, made 
his way down the stairs. Burned, and almost suffocated, as he gained 
the fresh air, he fainted and fell to the ground, and he and his wife were 
conveyed to a neighbor’s house, to be attended to. 

Emma, who was in an adjoining room, like her mother, had, from fa- 
tigue, grief, and a loss of repose, sunk into a profound sleep, when her 
father called her ; but his voice being more distant from her than it was 
from her mother, it roused her, without giving so much alarm, and as 


30 


EMMA MORTON, 


they had both lain down without undressing, she arose, ready for flight. 
She opened her chamber door, but saw no one there, and the flames 
dashed in so violently, that she was forced to close it again as soon as 
possible. She then saw her danger; and called out, “ O, ma! O, pa! 
help, O ! help me ; O ! help — help me ! The smoke and flames began 
to fill her room through the crevices of the door, and the poor creature 
sat down and covered her face with her trembling hands. Below all was 
bustle and confusion. The hosemen had got into the lower part of the 
house, but they did not seem to check the whirling flames. And the 
crowd seemed to do almost as much harm as good, and none thought of 
asking if all the family were safe. Emma sat but a moment before she 
thought of the window. She sprang to it, and put out her head and call- 
ed for help. Horror stricken, the crowd gazed at her beautiful form, 
which seemed angelic, as the dark smoke and lurid flames passed out of 
the window by her side, but none could devise a speedy means for her 
rescue. 

•‘O, ma! O, pa! save me! save me! quick, the fire is burning me, 
O, I shall die! save, O! save me, somebody,” she said, imploringly; and 
was just in the act of leaping from the window, when she felt somebody 
clasp her in his arms, and draw her back. 

“ Dear Emma, I’ll save you,” said he or die with you,” 

George Blackwood who had entered the lower part of the rear flight 
of steps with his hose pipe, just as Morton cried, “Emma, fire! ” heard 
the exclamation, and thence made every efibrt that his courage or wis- 
dom could devise, to subdue the fire and gain an entrance to her room. 
He fought his way through fire and smoke and arrived at her door just 
as she made the last appeal for help. In an instant he dropped his hose 
pipe, and bursting through the door, caught the lovely being in his arms, 
and drew her in. The crowd thought that she had fainted and fallen 
back into the fire. And, while every heart was trembling at the painful 
sight, the young hero appeared with her safely wrapped in a blanket in 
the open street. He placed her on her feet, when, with womanly grace, 
she thanked him for his kindness. 

“ No thanks, no thanks, my dear Miss ; you know I am indebted to 
you, and I expect I ever shall be,” said George Blackwood. 

“ Why, who are you? ” said Emma, and then looking at him as the 
light shone in his face, she added : “O ! I now recollect you. But, O ! 
sir, where are my dear parents ? are they safe ?” 

“ They are. I saw your pa take your ma out in his arms, as I did 
you,” said George, 

“ Not exactly so, neither. Your pa fainted and fell with your ma just 


EMMA MORTON. 


31 


as he gained the pavement, and then they were both taken to Mr. Ba- 
ker’s to be cared for,” said a bystander. 

“ O ! conduct me to them, will you ?” she said to George, who readily 
complied with her request. As they walked along, George made several 
remarks, but Emma’s heart was too full to reply. At the end of their 
journey, George rang the bell at Mr. Baker’s, which was answered by 
Mr. Baker himself. 

“ Why,” said he ; “ who have you here, George ? Miss Emma, as I 
live, who we all thought was burned with the house. Why, really, Miss 
Emma, I am truly glad to see you thus safely rescued from the fire. But, 
come in ; your presence is too much needed by your mother and father, 
for us to tarry here to talk. Come — come in to them, at once — come 
in, George.” 

‘‘ Excuse me, sir,” said George ; “ my duty calls me to the fire.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Morton had not long been restored to their senses, 
when Emma arrived, and they were in deep distress on her account ; 
and with much difficulty they were kept from returning to the fire to 
seek her. And, as soon as they heard her voice at the door, they start- 
ed up to meet her. This meeting was too afiecting to be described. 
They both caught their dear child in their arms at the same time, ex- 
claiming : 

“Thank Heaven, we are all three safely together once more,” and all 
fell to the floor, with tears of joy running down their cheeks, unable to 
speak for several minutes. At length they related the story of their de- 
liverance, and then kissed and embraced each other over and over again, 
seemingly unable to realize the joyful fact that they had providentially 
escaped the flames. In the midst of their joy, however, Mrs. Morton’s 
grateful heart prompted her to inquire for George. 

“But where, my dear Emma, is your noble deliverer?” she said, 
with an inquiring look. 

“ O ! ma,” said Emma, “ he left me at the door to return to the fire.” 

“ My dear Thomas,” said Mrs. Morton, turning to her husband, “he 
must be handsomely rewarded for this gallant deed, and I hope it will be 
in our power to do so speedily.” 

This brought Mr. Morton’s mind to consider upon the condition of his 
affairs, which, under the present circumstances, were embarrassing to an 
alarming degree. His hotel was all that he possessed in the world : and 
the insurance on that had expired the day before the fire, and he had put 
off re-insuring in consequence of the meeting of the club, until the fol- 
lowing Monday, so that the burning of his house and furniture ^^as a to- 
tal loss to him ; and, besides, he was considerably in debt. The thoughts 




32 


EMMA MOKTON. 


of these things passed hastily through his mind on hearing his wife’s de- 
sire, and caused him to breathe a heavy sigh, as he said in a thoughtful 
mood : 

“I hope so, too, my dear.” 

‘‘ O ! ” said Emma, “ I do not believe he will accept any thing ; for 
when I thanked him for rescuing me, he said, no thanks Miss, for I am 
still in debt to you, and expect I ever shall be.” 

‘‘ My child,” said Mr. Morton, “ whether he does or not, I will en- 
deavor to see him to-morrow, and acknowledge my indebtedness to him 
for his gallant conduct. Indeed, I would go forthwith, but I feel so fee- 
ble that I can hardly sit up.” 

By this time the morning sun had driven the shades of night behind 
the Western hills, and another day of sacred rest was brought to light. 
The destructive flames had spent their fury, and the noise of the fire 
had died away. Quiet spectators were thronging the street, to view the 
vacant lot, and meditate on that ’which once had been. Morton and his 
family never breathed the morning air with such heavy hearts before ; 
and to relieve their sorrows as far as she could, the kind Mrs. Baker in- 
vited them to partake of an early breakfast. They ate but sparingly; for 
by this time their forlorn condition had broken in upon their minds, and 
they began to feel what it was to be a homeless family. Their kind 
host and hostess, anticipating their wishes, proposed to them to lake a 
chamber to themselves, for the purpose of talking over their own affairs, 
and bringing their minds to a state of resignation. They thankfully 
accepted the proposition, and followed Mrs. Baker to an up stairs cham- 
ber. 

“ Here,” said she, ‘‘ I wish you to feel that this is your home, until a 
kind Providence shall conduct you to a better. We sympathize deeply 
with you, and feel it our bounden duty to share with you so far as we 
can, the grievous burthen that has just been cast upon you. But, have 
you any idea about the origin of the fire ? ” 

At this question Morton’s cheeks turned deathly pale, and his whole 
frame trembled. Mrs. Morton and Emma both, gave her to understand 
that they did not know how it originated; and Morton attempted to 
speak, but for some time his lips refused to give utterance to his ideas. 
Mrs. Baker, who had not heard of the tumult at Morton’s house the 
night before, thought it very strange that her simple question should agi- 
tate him so much. But Mrs. Morton and Emma, from the noise they 
heard in the house before the fire took place, and from his confusion on 
hearing Mrs. Baker’s question, readily inferred that he was in posses- 
sion of the facts about its origin, and believed that was the reason why 


■r 


EMMA MORTON. 


33 


her question disconcerted him. Mrs. Baker apologized for making the 
inquiry, and then withdrew. 


CHAPTER V. 

DEATH OF COLONEL M. THE COURT TRIALS. 

Mr. Morton, now alone with his wife and daughter, felt free to 
breathe into their confidential ears, what he was ashamed to tell before a 
stranger ; and in broken sentences he related the sad and disgraceful oc- 
currences of the night before, up to the time of his fainting in the street. 
They listened with fortitude to the horrid facts, until he closed by 
adding : 

“ And now I expect the officers of the law will soon arrest me, as a 
party to the brutal murder.” 

On healing this, with agonies of grief almost to suffocation, they both 
cast themselves upon him, exclaiming : 

“ O ! we cannot give you up. They must not take you from us, O ! 
we cannot live without you.” 

Their love and affection for him, awakened all the better feelings of 
the husband and the father, which, for the want of sober habits, but too 
often lie buried in depraved appetites. With the most affectionate 
words and actions he endeavored to soothe their grief- worn hearts. 
And putting an arm around each, with tearful eyes, he looked first at 
his wife and then at his daughter, and pressed a pledge of love on their 
tear-wet cheeks. He then raised his head and said : 

“ O ! my dear ones, do not let my base and brutal conduct break your 
tender hearts. O ! dear wife, bear with your ungrateful husband in this 
sad hour of repentance. O ! dear daughter, let not your father’s shame 
turn your kind heart against him. Like you both, I am in sorrow ; and 
if you, innocent as you are, have a weight of sorrow on your hearts, 
what do you think I must feel, when I see you, whom I love better than 
myself, grieving on account of my bad conduct. O ! could I atone for 
the pain and tears I have caused you, even by the sacrifice of my life, I 
would make it.” 

“O! no, no, no,” said Mrs Morton; “ talk not so, my dear. Only 
make the sacrifice of the use of liquor, and you will atone for all.” 

3 — 


34 


EMMA MOKTON. 


“Yes, dear pa,’’ said Emma; “ only make that sacrifice, and that will 
do.” 

“ Well, now, hear me then,” said Morton, as he raised his right hand 
toward heaven : “ In the presence of that God who made the heavens 
and the earth, I swear that I will never drink another drop of intoxica- 
ting liquor, and that on the first opportunity, I will sign the Temperance 
pledge, and become a member of the Temperance Society.” 

This promise is what Mrs. Morton and her daughter had prayed for 
hundreds of times. Indeed, it was the burthen of all their prayers, and, 
therefore, as a matter of course, it infused into their sorrow-stricken 
hearts a gleam of joy more easily imagined than described ; and thus all 
seemed to be greatly relieved from the heavy burthens that had pressed 
them down. Mrs. Morton then inquired of her husband, ‘‘ What the 
probable consequences of the previous night’s murder would be to him?” 

“ Indeed,” said Mr. Morton, ‘‘ I cannot tell, my dear, for I was dead 
drunk, I suppose, when the afiray took place, and know nothing at all 
about it ; and, the first supposition I had that anything wrong was done, 
was given me by the blood on the floor, which, as I have told you, 
arrested my attention, and prevented me from extinguishing the piece of 
candle, which I have no doubt set fire to the house ; and this supposition 
was soon confirmed by Doctor H., when I arrived at his house, as before 
related to you.” 

“ O ! dear pa, they will not hang you for it, will they ? ” said Emma, 
and bursting into tears, hid her face in her mother’s lap. 

‘‘O! no, my dear,” said her father, ‘‘be quiet. It will only be man- 
slaughter in any of the parties, I suppose. But we will hear more 
about it to-morrow.” 

Their conversation was now interrupted by a light tap on the door, 
and the announcement that George Blackwood was down stairs. They 
all seemed to be pleased to hear it, and prepared to go down to see 
him ; but Emma blushed and trembled to such a degree that her mother 
paused to know if she were ill. 

“O! no, dear ma,” she replied, with a tremulous voice; “but the 
name of George Blackwood brought my danger of last night so vividly 
to my recollection, that I was really alarmed without thinking — but I 
have recovered myself, now.” 

They then proceeded to Mrs. Baker’s parlor, and joined in company 
with her family and George Blackwood. After the usual salutations, 
Mr. Morton said : 

“ Mr. Blackwood, we feel ourselves under a debt of gratitude to you, 
too large to be cancelled at this time ; but hope, that soon we will be 


EMMA MORTON. 


35 


able to remunerate you in a manner worthy of your gallant efforts in 
rescuing our beloved daughter and only child, from an awful and painful 
death : and sir” — 

“ Pardon me, dear sir, for interrupting you,” said George ; “ but, I 
wish you to believe me when I say, that the most soul-cheering reward 
that you can ever confer on me, is never to say again, that you or yours 
are indebted to me for any act of kindness that I can render you : for I 
never can discharge the obligations I am under to your lovely daughter, 
which I incurred some years since.” 

“ Why, my dear sir,” said Mrs. Morton, “ that little act of kindness 
of hers, was but a trifle compared with your gallant services last night.” 

“Ah! my dear madam,” said Blackwood, “ the consequences of that 
act of hers will follow me to the grave. Had it not been for her, in- 
stead of being a sober, and I trust a useful member of society, I should 
now be, if alive, a loathsome and a degraded drunkard. Never, never, 
shall I forget my feelings, when I saw tears in her eyes, and heard her 
say she would bring somebody to assist me. I resolved at that time I 
never again would drink another drop of ardent spirits, and thank God, 
to the present day, I have kept my resolution, and I intend to keep it 
forever. And now, once for all, I pray you to believe that I did not call 
here this morning for the purpose of receiving acknowledgments, but 
rather to give them ; and I hope, he added, facetiously, “ that we have 
settled this most difficult part of our business to the satisfaction of the 
parties concerned.” 

“ Not so,” said Emma, with a modest retiring grace: “you made me a 
handsome present for my act of kindness towards you ; and now, since 
you will not accept anything from pa, for your act of kindness towards 
me, I think it is my duty to return it, and then we can be on equal 
grounds together.” She then drew from her bosom the gold watch and 
chain that George’s father gave her, and presented it to him. 

He looked at her with more than admiration, as she rose, and ex- 
tended her hand holding the watch towards him ; and no wonder, for she 
appeared more beautiful and womanly than she had ever done before. 

He paused, and his color came and went. She saw his confusion, and 
with a childlike smile of kindness and good humor, said: 

“I do beseech you to take it, Mr. Blackwood.” 

He met her smile of good humor with a similar one, and said: 

“ Well, Emma, I will accept it, if you will declare to me that you 
have no regard for it.” 

This condition seemed to remove the embarrassment from Blackwood 
to Emma, and with her eyes turned to the floor, she said : 


36 


EMMA MORTON. 


‘‘ The jewel sir, is too handsome to be disregarded by any person, and 
then, the motto has always been very interesting to me — and ” 

“ O! that will do, Miss Emma ; I know you have some little regard 
for it, and you must keep it. And now please to take your seat, and be- 
lieve that we have settled our business satisfactorily to all parties, for 
the present, at least,” said Blackwood. 

“Well, be it so,” she replied, diffidently, and resumed her seat. All 
looked round on each other, and one of those general pauses which 
sometimes occur in companies, ensued. The chime of the church bells 
led Blackwood to remark : 

“ Why, I did not think it was so late : it’s church time ,” and as he 
closed, he rose from his seat. 

“Don’t be in such a hurry George,” said Mr, Baker ; “ it is not such 
a killing matter if you miss church this morning.” 

“ Why, true, sir, said Blackwood, but still I can get there in time yet. 
feut before I go, I would humbly offer to serve you, Mr. Morton, in any 
way that, under your recent losses, you may need my assistance. In- 
deed, sir, to make you this offer, was my principal object in calling on 
you this morning.” 

Morton took him by the hand and said : “I thank you sincerely, sir, 
and hope you will never regret that you have made it.” 

“I have no apprehensions of anything of that sort, sir,” replied 
Blackwood, and withdrew. 

“That’s a noble hearted young man,” said Morton. 

“He is now sir, I believe, one of the finest young men of our town; 
and I am told, that his professional skill is unequaled by any other 
young man’s at the bar,” replied Mr. Baker. 

“ Any woman might be proud of such a son,” said Mrs. Baker. But 
she added : “ I would like to know what that watch business means, 

Miss Emma, and what his indebtedness means, too ! It appears that 
you have had something to do in making him a sober man. Now, really, 
this is all new to me ; and, if there is no impropriety in my knowing it, 
I should like for you to tell me all about it.” 

Emma, at first, seemed a little at a loss for a reply, but soon recov- 
ering from her momentary embarrassment, said : 

“I would rather not answer these inquiries, just now, Mrs. Baker, 
if you will have the goodness to excuse me ; and I would most respect- 
fully refer you to Mr. Blackwood himself, who can give you more cor- 
rect answers than I can.” 

“ That’s very satisfactory, my daughter ; I am in no haste about know- 
ing,” said Mrs. Baker. 


EMMA MOKTON. 


37 


' Mrs. Morton then proposed to return to their chamber, and proceeded 
up stairs, followed by her husband and daughter. 

It seems that this is a proper place to give the reader a short sketch 
of George Blackwood, so that he may be the better known in the subse- 
quent part of this work : His personal appearance was manly and well 
proportioned; his features symmetrically adjusted, and indicative of strong 
intellect, and indomitable perseverance. His complexion dark; and from 
beneath a pair of well turned eye-brows, his large black eyes shone 
with a lustre and kind expression that seemed to induce all who saw 
him, to feel at ease in his presence; in short, in all that looks manly in 
man, he rather excelled his species. His father, who doted on him as 
his only child, was a rich merchant in the town of B., and he had every 
means in his power, necessary to give George a liberal education and 
qualify him for usefulness. About four years after Morton opened his 
hotel in that place, George having learned to drink liquor at his father’s 
side-board, or at the family bar, as Morton afterwards told his father, 
along with other fashionable young men of the town, who were old 
enough to become drunkards, but not old enough to know its sorrows, 
thought it was manly to visit Morton’s, until the occurrence took place 
which brought him to an acquaintance with Emma Morton, in a state of 
intoxication, as before related. From that time his parents kept a fam- 
ily bar no longer, and George became a staunch Temperance man. He 
and Emma met no more, until he rescued her from the flames ; and yet, 
on their interview at Mr. Baker’s, the day after the fire, it was plain to 
all, that the trying scenes through which they had passed together, had 
created between them something more than a mere acquaintance. It is 
true, Emma was very young to think of matrimony, and we do not sup- 
pose she did ; but yet her mind was nearer the standard of matrimony 
at fourteen years old, than are many a young lady’s at eighteen ; and her 
structure was womanly, and of extremely fine form ; and her features 
of that beautiful cast that could not fail to make an impression on such a 
heart as tenanted the breast of George Blackwood. 

We must now turn to the parlor of Doctor H. On the alarm of fire, 
the members of the singing club who had assembled there, all dispersed, 
except the Doctor, and t\yo of the dying Colonel’s friends, who stayed 
to take care of him. At about ten o’clock that morning, the Colonel 
breathed his last, and notice was given to the Coroner of his death. 
The jury found that the Colonel died by manslaughter, and returned 
General P. as the perpetrator, and forthwith a writ was issued for his 
apprehension. The other members of the club, together with Morton 
and the bar-keeper, were summoned as witnesses. The ofiicers searched 


38 


EMMA MORTON. 


until a late hour at night, but the General could not be found ; and thus 
the affair rested until the next morning. On the opening of the Court 
the following day, a message was sent to the Governor, who issued his 
proclamation offering a reward of three hundred dollars, for the appre- 
hension of General P. And the Court charged the Grand Jury to in- 
vestigate the character of Morton’s hotel. On the third day, matters 
were brought into a form for trial. The General was apprehended, and 
Morton was indicted for keeping a disorderly house. The General’s 
case was tried first, and the ablest counsel were employed on both sides , 
and after two days’ labor, the jury brought in a verdict of homicide in 
self defense, and the General was acquitted. The next morning Mor- 
ton was put on his trial. After consultation with Blackwood, who of- 
fered to defend him gratuitously, he concluded to plead guilty, and ad- 
dress the jury himself in extenuation of his alledged offense, in order to 
induce the jury to assBs^ the fine as low as possible. When, therefore, 
his indictment was read, he arose and said : 

“May it please the Court ; the indictment just read shows that I have 
been indicted for keeping a disorderly house, which I do not deny : but 
I respectfully ask permission to offer a few remarks to the jury in ex- 
tenuation of my offense.” He paused, and the Court granted permis- 
sion for him to proceed. He then, wuth a pale face and tremulous 
voice, said : 

“ Gentlemen of the jury — you have been impanneled to ascertain 
whether or not I have been guilty of keeping a disorderly house; and to 
relieve you from taking the trouble to decide that proposition, I here vol- 
untarily admit that I am guilty. But, gentlemen, I wish to present for 
your consideration a few remarks relative to the business in which I 
have been engaged in order that you may view my offense with as le- 
nient an eye as possible ; and the remarks I wish to make are founded 
on facts which no body knows so well as a tavern-keeper. From a 
number of years’ employment in that business, I am convinced that 
the fountain of nine-tenths of all the disorder in our land is the dis- 
tillery, which by a kind of enchantment has induced our law-makers 
to legalize its existence, and lulled our people to sleep, while like a 
vampyre, it is drawing the heart’s blood from thousands of our hapless 
fellow beings, and unknowingly our Legislators, Judges, Juries, tavern- 
keepers, and voters^ have all become accessories to deeds of disorder and 
crime, too degrading for tongue to describe, and too extensive for imagi- 
nation to reach. This assertion, gentlemen, may be regarded by many as 
hypothetical. But I believe the reason why they thus regard it, is because 
their minds have never been turned to the investigation of the subject. 


EMMA MORTON. 


39 


For, unhappily for the cause of humanity, ayhis day, almost the whole of 
the human intellect is directed to the search of new discoveries in the arts 
and sciences, while the immediate substantial of man’s individual hap- 
piness, are almost wholly overlooked. I, too, until recently, was an ad- 
vocate for making, vending, and using alcohol. But, gentlemen, the de- 
basing business in which I have been engaged, and which has brought 
me into disgrace before you this day, has convinced me, by sad experi- 
ence, that the whole system of liquor business is evil, and only evil, and 
that continually. And in this evil, it seems to me, that all who advocate 
or tolerate the system, participate, although they may not be conscious 
of the awful fact. My impressions may be erroneous on this subject, 
gentlemen, but I will detail to you the process by which I have received 
them, and then you can decide for yourselves. For the last few days, I 
have .had my sober reason to guide me in my time of trouble, and I fully 
anticipated this charge against me ; and on revolving it in my mind, I 
came to the alarming conclusion that it was utterly impossible for any 
man to retail liquor without having disorder in his house, from the very 
fact that his house had to be kept open for the reception of the disor- 
derly portion of the community. And, here a question arose. Who are 
the disorderly ? and the answer came in quick succession. Those who 
drink alcohol. This led me to look back on the course I had pursued as 
a tavern-keeper, and I was fully convinced, in every case of disorder in 
my house, it was out of my power to prevent it. And I believe that 
every tavern-keeper finds it the same with him. In short, gentlemen, it 
is a business of disorder. Look at it. Here stands A., behind his bar. 
Mr. B. comes in, perfectly sober, to all appearance. He takes his glass 
and goes off. Now, let us follow him. He walks a while, and soon 
wants another drink. He stops at the bar of C., gets it and departs ; 
and soon stops at the bar of D. for another, but exhibiting signs of in- 
toxication, D. refuses to let him have it. Now, what is the result of 
D.’s refusal ? Why, most assuredly, A. is offended, and becomes disor- 
derly ; and, in all probability, he has a fight with somebody about the 
house, before he leaves it. A., you see, becomes deranged, and, as a 
matter of course, disorder ensues. In like manner, E., who has already 
drank too freely at other bars, comes to the bar of A. for a drink, and A. 
refuses in the most polite manner he can, to let.him have it ; but E. disre- 
gards all politeness, and becomes enraged, and, most generally, will com- 
mit the grossest acts of disorder before he departs. Then, again, gen- 
tlemen, a company of young lads, who have learned to drink at the fam- 
ily side-boards of their parents, step up to the bar of A., and with 
more self importance than mother wit, swelling and breathing forth a 


40 


EMMA MORTON. 


string of vulgar oaths, call for their juleps, slings, punches, &c. NoWy 
if A, refuses, on account of their minority, or on any other account ^ 
they are sure to create disorder 5 and, if he lets them drink, they are 
generally sure to get drunk : so, in either case, disorder follows. But, 
gentlemen, as a cap to the climax, along comes a company of majors, 
colonels, generals, doctors, lawyers, merchants and other gentlemen, as, 
(here his voice faltered,) was assembled last Saturday night at my un- 
fortunate house, and they call for a private room, and retire to them- 
selves, and assume the command of their own room, and there drink as 
they please, until they become crazed, and then, can anything but disor- 
der and bloodshed be expected from them ? surely not. Now, in all 
these cases, gentlemen of the jury — and they occur daily with every tav- 
ern-keeper — I know, by experience, that it is impossible for the landlord 
to prevent disorder, and yet he is blamed for all the disorder that hap- 
pens in his house. 

“ Now, gentlemen of the jury: if to do our fellow creatures an injury, 
is disorder, then is it disorder in our Government to tolerate alcohol in 
the land, for every reasonable person now says that it is injurious to 
the community. And, as a proof of that sentiment, we need but look 
back to last Saturday night. In the lapse of one week, we see a family 
beggared, a fellow citizen slain, an expenditure of near a thousand 
dollars of public money incurred, and a- large community of people kept 
in a state of excitement from their legitimate avocations for several 
days, by the toleration of alcohol among us. And shall this state of 
things continue ? No, gentlemen ; let us blot from our Statute books 
every vestige of law that sanctions this ruinous traffic; suffer them 
not to be polluted any longer with laws which license the destruction of 
our fellow-citizens, and deluge the earth with tears, and fill the air 
with groans of suffering humanity. But, say some : ‘ The license laws 

bring a revenue to the State.’ Can any discerning man believe this ? 
No, sir. The expenditure of money and the loss of time and property 
caused by alcohol in this town alone, during the past week, is worth 
more than all the revenue derived from licenseis for a whole year. But^ 
gentlemen, even admitting that the license system did increase the pub- 
lic revenue, is it possible, that, in this enlightened age, in the land of 
liberty, our Government should be so tyrannical as to seek to draw a rev- 
enue from the tears and cries of wives, widows, and orphans, and by 
fastening insanity, degradation, and death, on husbands, fathers and 
brothers ; ” here, his utterance for a few moments failed, and tears 
rolled down his cheeks. He drank a little water, and then, in a tremu- 
lous voice, continued : 


EMMA MORTON. 


41 


“ Gentlemen of the jury : I pray you to bear with me. The thoughts 
of a beloved wife and daughter whom I have disgraced and injured, for 
a moment took command of my feelings. O ! that I had died before I 
acquired the habit of drinking liquor. It has ruined me, I fear, past 
redemption. It has ruined thousands on thousands of our deluded fel- 
low creatures, and it is still in its full flow of destruction ; and will you 
still keep the curse upon us, poor unfortunate inebriates. O ! take it 
away, gentlemen, and you will free more than three millions of your 
countrymen from the worst of bondage 5 and save, annually, thirty thou- 
sand of them from falling into a drunkard’s grave. O ! drive it from 
yourselves and from your children ; for you and they are liable to fall 
under its cruel power as we have already done. O ! take it away, gen- 
tlemen 5 and then strife and disorder will cease in our land, and we shall 
be truly a free and happy people. 

“ But if this cannot be done, and it is still necessary to draw a revenue 
through the polluted channel of alcohol, then let us as a people fill up the 
cup of our own disgrace by licensing gambling, prostitution, bigamy, 
larceny, arson, burglary, murder, and, in short, all the crimes prohibited 
by lawj for all of them put together could not be so destructive to the 
peace and happiness of man, as are the daily effects of alcohol. 

“I will now, gentlemen, assure you that, with bitter anguish, I regret 
the causes of this day’s proceedings, and hope that you will deal as kind- 
ly with me as your sense of duty will permit , for my punishment al- 
ready is greater than I can bear. I thank you for your indulgence.” 

With tears rolling down his cheeks, he took his seat, and a general si- 
lence for a few moments followed. Everybody was deeply affected, and 
seemed to be lost in thought over the new and incontrovertible truths he 
had advanced. The jury put their verdict as low as the law would al- 
low ; and Mr. Blackwood settled it immediately with the Court, and 
procured Morton’s discharge. 


42 


EMMA MORTON. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE MYSTERIOUS MAN MORTOn’s DEPARTURE FOR MAINE. 

“ Well, ma,” said Emma, ‘‘ I wonder what the Court will do with 
pa?” 

“Indeed, my dear,” ]^said Mrs. Morton, sorrowfully, “I cannot tell. 
His case seems to be a very aggravated one, although he himself is a 
great loser by it.” 

“ Indeed, ma,” said Emma, I think we are now in very low circum- 
stances, and I begin to fear we shall have trouble to find a means of 
support.” 

“ O ! nonsense, my child. Leave that to your pa and myself. We’ll 
manage that,” said Mrs. Morton, smilingly. 

“ But, ma, you know pa has no trade, and what can he do towards ma- 
king a living ? ” said Emma. 

“ Never let that trouble you, my daughter,” said her mother; “for 
God will take care of us, if we will only do our part of the work. 
The only thing that gives me any trouble is your father’s evil habits.” 

“ O ! that is all done with, now. You know pa has promised not to 
drink any more” said Emma. 

“ I know he has, my dear ; and he has frequently made that promise 
to me before, and has as frequently broken it,” said Mrs. Morton. 

“ Indeed! ” said Emma, thoughtfully; “then I suppose, ma, you think 
he will break it again.” 

“ Indeed, dear Em,” said her mother, “ there seems to be a kind of 
witchcraft on men that drink, and particularly so, on your father. For 
I know that he has made the strongest efforts to keep from drinking, and 
yet, it seems the evil habit will conquer his better judgment in spite of 
all his efforts against it. He has told me this over and over again, and 
I verily believe it.” 

“ Well, but you know, ma, he said he would join the Temperance So- 
ciety the first opportunity that offered; and if he does, that may help him 
to keep sober,” said Emma. 

“ True, my dear,” said Mrs. Morton ; “ that gives me a little hope, 
but I fear that will prove delusive.” 

“ O ! ma,” said Emma, “ yonder comes pa down the street, on the op- 
posite side. I hope he has got through his Court business. 

“ Indeed I do too,” replied Mrs. Morton. 

“ Well, my dear ones,” said Mr. Morton, as he entered the room of his 


EMMA MORTON. 


43 


wife and daughter, “ How have you spent the day; comfortably, I hope, 
have you 

‘‘ As comfortably,” replied Mrs. Morton, as could be expected of 
those who knew their dearest friend was in difficulty.” 

‘‘ Indeed, pa,” said Emma, “ I have been all day in anxious suspense 
about you; and I hope you are now prepared to inform us that your Court 
business is happily terminated.” 

“ Well, it is, my girl,” said her father ; “ and I feel a great deal re- 
lieved, although I am laid under renewed obligations to our friend Black- 
wood, by its termination.” 

“ Why, how so?” inquired his wife; ‘‘ did he plead your cause ?” 

“ I did that myself,” replied Mr. Morton; but he paid the fine and 
charges, and had me set at liberty, and now I feel like a free man, in 
every sense of the word. I am free from law, and free from liquor, and 
so I intend to remain. And with my dear Ellen, and my dear Emma,” 
taking them both in his arms, ‘‘ I now hope to spend many happy days in 
quiet domestic joys. On Monday, I intend to look round to get us a lit- 
tle home; and then I am going to get employment of some sort, and try to 
take a new start in the busy world, and live a different life from the one 
I have thus far spent.” 

They looked at him with tears of joy in their beaming eyes, and mani- 
fested the greatest satisfaction on hearing his plans. Mrs. Baker then 
entered with a Temperance notice in her hand, which announced a meeting 
of the Washington Temperance Society on that evening. She handed it to 
Emma, and then was about to retire, but Mr. Morton invited her to sit 
down, and then entered into a free and easy conversation with her, which 
pleased her very much; for until then he had appeared embarrassed when- 
ever she spoke to him. 

At night they attended the Temperance meeting, which was ably and 
feelingly addressed by several speakers, in the true Washingtonian style; 
and when the pledge was presented, Morton was the first to sign it. 
This he did without any solicitation from his wife or daughter; for al- 
though they were extremely anxious that he should do so, yet they 
believed it would Be better for him to do it freely. When they returned 
home, they all rejoiced together, and looked back to the Saturday previous 
as a day of sorrow. 

On the next afternoon Blackwood paid them a visit of a few hours’ 
duration, which passed off pleasantly. 

Early on Monday, Mr. Morton set out to procure a house; and in the 
evening his little family took up their abode in a small house of three 
rooms, in a retired part of the town, with scarcely furniture enough for 


44 


EMMA MOKTON. 


necessary purposes. But still they were happy, because the father and 
husband was a sober man. On the next day he obtained a situation as an 
assistant salesman in the store of a Washingtonian, and Mrs. Morton pro- 
cured good employment for her needle. The sun was just clbsing the 
day, when Mr. Morton and his wife returned home from their search after 
employment; Emma met them at the door with buoyant steps and radiant 
smiles. 

“ O, dear ma and pa,” she said, “ I am so glad to see you, and you look 
so pleased that I have not a doubt you have succeeded. But come in; 
Fve supper already to put on the table, and I know you want some, and 
I’ll put it on immediately, and then we’ll talk over the events of the 
day.” She then served up supper in a few moments, and they all sat 
down round the table, with faces beaming with satisfaction. As soon as 
seated, Mrs. Morton said: 

‘‘Well, Em, your father and I have both been fortunate. He has ob- 
tained a good situation with a Washingtonian, and I have obtained more 
needle-work than we both can perform; so that I believe we shall be able 
to make a comfortable support for ourselves and live happily.” 

“ That highly gratifies me, ma,” said Emma; “ and I will do all I can 
to help along.” 

“ We have no fear about that,” observed her father, pleasantly; “ but 
Em, you have made us such a good supper this evening, that I think we’ll 
have to make you our cook.” 

“ It makes no difference to me, dear pa,” replied Emma, “ what you 
put me at. I’ll do the best I can, any where you put me. And by-the-by, 
did you know that that was my motto ?” 

“ Why no, child,” he said, as he took the tea-cup from his mouth. 

“ How long since you adopted that motto, Em ?” inquired her mother. 

“ O,” said Emma, “ ever since my teacher gave me the first lesson on 
the piano. He asked me if I could learn to play it, and I said to him, I 
will do the best I can, sir; and he said to me, ‘ that is a good motto, my 
little miss, and if you act in accordance with it, you will do all that can 
be required of you;’ and I then made up my mind to do so.” 

“ And have you done the best you could ever since ?” asked her father. 

“ Yes, sir,” she replied with earnestness. 

“ Well, Em,” said her father, “ if everybody would be governed by 
your motto, the world would be a great deal better off; and I think, for 
one, that I will try to pursue it hereafter.” 

“ Well, I never adopted it as a motto, exactly, but I have always en- 
deavored to do the best I could under all circumstances,” said Mrs. Mor- 
ton. 


EMMA MOKTON. 


45 


“ I know now that I have done the best I could for once in my life, 
and that is by eating a good supper to-night,” said Morton, rising from 
the table, followed by his wife and daughter. “ And now, Em, make 
haste and get ready, and we will go to the Temperance meeting,” he ad- 
ded in good humor. 

“ I’ll soon be ready, pa,” replied Emma. And in a short time after- 
wards they were listening to one of the Washingtonian orators, pleading 
the cause of the unfortunate drunkard. In a most eloquent manner he 
portrayed the miseries of Intemperance, and held alcohol up to view as a 
bewitching demon more deceptive than the syren songsters, and more 
destructive than Pandora’s box. He then spoke of the inebriate as an ob- 
ject of commiseration and kindness, instead of contumely and scorn; and 
stated that the Washingtonians sought to elevate the lowest drunkard from 
his degraded condition to one of sobriety and useful employment, irre- 
spective of religious sentiment; that they strove to induce their fellow 
beings to be sober and useful citizens, and that it was no part of their 
creed to impress them with any particular religious sentiments; that as a 
Society they urged no form of religion to any person, but that its march 
was against intoxicating liquors of all sorts, as a beverage. And then 
closed by adding that if the church or even the bible were opposed to them 
on that account they must stand aside, for they intended to mareh straight 
forward until mankind were redeemed and disenthralled from Intemper- 
ance. Mr. Morton observed as he and his family were going home: 

“ Well, I believe the Temperance cause has got into the right hands 
now. The Washingtonian Society has cut it loose from religion, so that 
no one can now have any fear of its leading to a union of Church and 
State, and thousands who opposed it in the hands of the church, will now 
join it. Indeed, the church has made such a handle of it to increase their 
members, that I believe they have done it more harm than good. And 
then again, because Paul told Timothy to drink a little for his often infir- 
mity, many preachers have told their congregation that it was ‘ no harm 
to take a little once in a while,’ which is the very way all drunkards have 
been ruined by drinking. Do you recollect the sermon we heard the 
Sunday before we left the city of New York, Ellen ?” 

“ Indeed I do, Thomas; Emma and I have spoken of it many times 
since, and we always regretted that it was ever delivered, for we believe 
that it has caused us many a bitter sigh,” replied Mrs. Morton. 

“ True indeed,” said Morton, “ it has, and me too, for had I not heard 
that sermon, I believe I should have lived a sober man. One such a ser- 
mon will make more drunkards than a thousand Temperance lectures can 
reclaim ; and yet, many ministers and members of the church, even at 


46 


EMMA MORTON. 


the present day, are treating the cause of Temperance in a similar man- 
ner but if their other views of religion are true, what an awful fate 
awaits them at the day of judgment, for the souls as well as bodies they 
ruin by leading men to drunkenness.” 

“Well,” said Emma, “is it not very strange, that religious people 
should act so, pa ? ” 

“Religious people, my dear,” said Morton, “do not act so: ‘By 
their fruits ye shall know them,’ said our Saviour. Were all church 
members like you and your mother, Christians by practice, as well as by 
profession, the world would be in a better plight 5 but a large majority 
of its members now are governed by pecuniary interests, and they lower 
the standard of Christianity. This you may see illustrated in many 
ways. Go to a church, for instance, whose influential and affluent mem- 
bers are engaged in the manufacture or sale of alcohol : and although 
Temperance was one of the three topics of Paul’s preaching, yet the 
minister of that church will never say a word about it ; but I am happy 
to believe that this state of things is changing for the better.” 

“ Well, come now, my dear,” said Mrs, Morton, “have a little char- 
ity: I believe there are many truly faithful ministers, who declare the 
whole counsel of God to their congregations, fearless of consequences.” 

“ O ! I grant you that, said Morton ; “ but I was speaking of the 
church with regard to its general operation; and you know, my dear, if 
it acts on a low scale, the people will act on a lower one, and hence it is 
that the least encouragement the church or its members give to Intem- 
perance, will lead more astray than five times the same amount of en- 
couragement coming from any other source.” 

They had now arrived at their door, where they found a gentleman 
seated on the step. He arose, and politely said: “This is Mr. Thomas 
J. Morton, I presume, sir? ” 

“ That is my name sir,” replied Morton. 

The ladies passed in, and Mr. Morton invited the stranger to follow 
them, and soon they were all seated in the parlor. They looked at each 
other inquiringly for a while in silence : The stanger to know if he 
had found the right persons, and they to know what could be the object 
of his visit. At last, Mr. Morton said : 

“ You appear to be a stranger in our town, sir.” 

“Yes sir,” he replied, and another silence ensued. 

At length Morton said : “Do you contemplate a residence here, sir ? ” 

“No longer than to-morrow, sir; ” and then another silence followed, 
the stranger still looking thoughtfully around, and casting his eyes on 
the floor whenever he saw Emma’s eyes fixed upon him. 


EMMA MOETON. 


47 


Morton said ; “ Which way are you traveling, sir ? ” 

“ No farther than this place, sir ; I shall return to-morrow, if I can 
accomplish my business in time.” 

‘‘ Where do you reside, sir ? ” said Morton, 

“ In the State of Maine, sir,” replied the stranger 5 “ and I have been 
sent here, sir, to find Mr. Thomas J. Morton. But, sir, if you will ex- 
cuse me, I would like to ask you a few questions before I tell you my 
business, and — ” 

“ Go on, sir,” said Morton, “ with your questions. I will answer 
them in the best manner, I can, sir.” 

“ Well, sir,” said the stranger, drawing a memorandum book out of 
his pocket ; “ will you be so good as to give me your father’s name, and 
inform me whether he is still living, and what has been your occupa- 
tion.” 

“ I will do all that with pleasure,” said Morton 5 “ My father’s name 
was Thomas Morton. He is now dead. I was his only child. He 
and my mother both died in ’32, with the cholera ; and, since that time, I 
have been keeping a hotel in this place, until a week ago last Saturday, 
I was burnt out. And, since then, I have done. nothing but rent this lit- 
tle home, and procure employment, which I am to commence to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ Well, sir, if you please,! will thank you to inform me whether your 
father left you any property ? ” 

“ That question, sir, I must say, seems to be inquiring into family 
matters pretty closely, but still I have no hesitation in answering it. 
And I can say that he did not,” replied Morton. 

“ Well, sir,” said the stranger, “ if you are the right Thomas J. Mor- 
ton that I am looking for, and I believe you are, I hope you will let me 
ask you whether, on your father’s death, you inherited any property by 
any other means ? ” 

By this time, the curiosity of the family was wrought up to the high- 
est pitch, and Morton said : 

“ I would like to know, sir, what leads you to make so free as to pro- 
pound to me such questions ? ” 

“ O ! my dear,” said Mrs. Morton, “It will do no harm to give the 
stranger a civil answer to the last question, and — ” 

“ Indeed, it will not,” interrupted the stranger, “ and it is the last I 
shall ask before I shall let you know the reason why I have been so in- 
quisitive.” 

“ Well, then,” said Morton, “ on my father’s death, it was found that 
the house and furniture were mine, instead of my father’s. An old 


48 


EMMA MOKTON. 


gentleman, whom nobody at the time knew, and of whom I have not 
since heard, established the fact.” 

“That, sir, is precisely the fact I have sought to know ; and I am now 
satisfied that you are the right person that I am looking for,” said the 
stranger. “ And I will now inform you that I am that old gentleman’s 
son, sent here to help you in your time of need by a person you never 
saw. I have brought you from him one thousand dollars, and a request 
that you return with me to the State of Maine, and accept of a good 
farm near the town of C., during the life of yourself and wife, and then 
to descend to your heirs, on condition that you never again become in- 
toxicated. And the pressing nature of my business urges me home as 
soon as possible; hence I have detained you to-night with this matter, and 
wish to know your answer.” 

A pause followed, and the stranger had nothing more to say. And 
Morton and his family were so bewildered by the strange turn of Prov- 
idence, that they were speechless with mental inquiries, who this friend 
could be, and they almost forgot where, or who they were; and then 
there was the old gentleman, too, his mysterious appearance at the sale 
in New York, and now the old gentleman’s son was before them. How 
very strange all these circumstances and persons appeared to them, with- 
out a clew to unfold the mystery. While this meditation was going on in 
their minds, the stranger counted down the thousand dollars, and covered 
it with a sealed letter directed to Thomas J. Morton, Esq. This attract- 
ed Morton’s attention. He opened the letter, and read as follows: 

Bear Sir : — My son, the bearer of this, will present you a thousand 
dollars from your friend, and a request that you return with him to Maine. 
Trust him ; all he says is truth. 

Yours, respectfully. 

The Old Gentleman. 

“ Sir,” said Morton, “the peculiar appearance of the writing convin- 
ces me that this is from the same hand that once kindly addressed me 
before under the same mysterious signature; and I now feel more anxious 
than ever to learn something more definite about the persons who have so 
greatly befriended me.” 

“ Then, sir,” said the stranger, “ return with me to Maine, and perhaps 
before long, you will know more about them.” 

“ Shall we go, Ellen?” said Morton. , 

“ Why, my dear,” said his wife, “I think we had better do so, if our 
employers will not be injured by our going.” 

“ What do you say, Em, shall we go ?” asked her father with a smile* 


f 


EMMA MOETON. 


49 


Emma thought of Blackwood for a moment ; but deeming the proposi- 
tion advantageous, she replied in the affirmative. 

Morton then said : “ Sir, we will make things ready by noon to-mor- 

row to accompany you ; and in the mean time, as it is growing late, if 
you please, we will retire for the night, and rise early for business to- 
morrow morning. But I would be pleased to know the name by which 
we shall address you.” 

“ O ! call me Friend Williams,” replied the stranger. 

‘ Friend Williams ’ was conducted to Emma^s bed, and she made her- 
self a temporary one on the settee. She laid down, but balmy sleep 
would not attend to close her eyes. Many thoughts in quick succession 
flew through her mind without her, bidding ; but none were cherished 
like the thoughts of George Blackwood, and none affected her so much 
as that of leaving him and going to Maine. 

“But after all, it is not so far,” she said to herself ; “and if he thinks 
any thing of me, he will come there to see me, and that will be proof of 
his attachment ; ” and under this sweet reverie she at last fell into a 
refreshing sleep. 

In the morning, all arose betimes, and the busy work of preparation 
was commenced. Mr. Morton paid an early visit to his employers, who 
were satisfied with his excuse ; and then he called on Blackwood, and 
paid him the sum advanced at Court, and informed him of the change he 
was about to make, and desired him to act as his attorney in settling 
some business. Mrs. Morton also called on her employers, and was ex- 
cused for leaving their work, and by eleven o’clock they were ready 
for their departure. 

Blackwood had an important case coming on in Court that morning ; 
but he thought he could not let Emma leave town without her know- 
ing how much he loved her. He therefore prevailed on the opposite 
counsel to put off the case until the next day, and paid an immediate 
visit to Mr. Morton’s, while Morton and his wife were attending to 
their out-door affairs. Emma met him alone at the door, with a blush 
and smile on her lovely countenance, that he had never seen there be- 
fore. She bade him good-morning, and invited him in. Extending his 
hand, he said : 

“ Dear Emma, I hope you will pardon my intrusion this morning. 
Your pa has just informed me that you were about to leave us for the 
State of Maine 5 and I felt that I could not permit you to go without 
letting , without bidding you farewell.” 

Emma hung down her head, and in a faltering voice said: “I am 
4 — 



50 


EMMA MOKTON. 


greatly obliged to you, Mr. Blackwood, for your kindness, and hope that 
Heaven will reward you for it.” 

At that time her ma came in, followed by Mr. Morton. They ex- 
pressed themselves highly gratified with Blackwood’s visit, and entered 
into a pleasant conversation. In a short time, however, the coach drove 
up, and Blackwood conducted Emma to it. As he shook her little hand, 
he pressed it tenderly to his lips, and said: 

‘‘ I hope we’ll meet again, soon,” He then kindly took leave of Mr. 
and Mrs. Morton as they entered the coach; and at the crack of the dri- 
ver’s whip, the prancing horses drew them off towards the State of 
Maine, at a rapid gait. 



CHAPTER VII. 

DEATH OF MR. BEVERAGE AND HIS WIFE. 

At the first watering place, the driver, as he attended to his horses, 
exhibited plain signs of the effects of liquor upon his person ; and just 
before he mounted his coach-box, took another heavy charge at the tav- 
ern bar. 

‘‘ Now,” said he, to the landlord, I am ready for business.” 

Not to drive this coach with me in it,” said a gentleman who sat in 
front, and observed his movements. 

And why not?” said the driver. 

Because, sir, I do not consider you in a proper condition to drive it 
safely,” said the passenger. 

“The d — 1, you don’t! I guess I know what I am about as well as 
you do. Mister,” replied the driver, taking hold of the side of the 
coach-box to spring up. 

Stop, stop, my good sir ; if you intend to drive this coach any fur- 
ther, I shall beg to be excused from traveling any further in it,” said 
the passenger ; and pushing open the coach door, said : 

“ Come, my daughter, we will stop here for a while ; ” and then he 
and his daughter stepped from the coach and demanded their baggage. 

By this time the driver had mounted his seat, and being disinclined to 
comply, said: 

“ I will leave your baggage at the next stand,” and took up his whip 




EMMA MOKTON. 


51 


to drive off. But the passenger, burning with indignation, leveled a re- 
volver at him, and said : 

“ I will let no drunken man drive a coach again in which I have to 
ride. I have done so once, and in consequence thereof you behold a 
recently made widower and a motherless daughter. Now, sir driver, 
our baggage, at once, or as sure as you live. I’ll blow you from that 
seat.” 

The driver then handed off their baggage. By this time our travelers 
began to be alarmed ; but the landlord said there was no danger, and be- 
ing anxious to delay as little as possible, they concluded to remain in the 
coach. The driver staggered up to his seat as well as he could, and 
started off in full speed, cursing the discharged passenger for detaining 
him. After a while, all was silent on the driver ’s-box, and the horses 
seemed to be going at quite a moderate gait. 

“ I hope,” said Friend Williams, we shall not have many drunken 
drivers on the road ; ” and they all hoped the same. 

‘‘I wonder,” said Mrs. Morton, “who that gentleman is, that left 
us ? ” 

“ I believe that he is a Mr. Bancroft ; and from the remarks he made 
relative to the loss of his wife, I should guess that he is the same gen- 
tleman who met with the stage accident a few days ago, in which his 
wife was killed in consequence of the drunkenness of the driver. 

At that moment a man ahead of them called out: “Stop, stop, for 
God’s sake, or you’ll all be killed. — Whoa, whoa! ” 

They all rose to their feet in the coach, and over it went on to its side, 
and the horses stopped. The ladies screamed, and the man outside in- 
quired if any of them were hurt. They all answered in the negative, 
and after the coach door was opened they came out safe and sound. 

“ Good Heavens I ” said Friend Williams, “ where is our driver? ” 

“I don’t know,” said the new comer ; “ I saw’ nobody on his box as I 
came up to meet you, and from the track that the horses were in, I 
guessed they would run the wheels off that little bridge, and upset you , 
and that was the reason why I bawled so loudly to you.” 

“ Ah ! yonder comes the driver,” said Morton, “ round the corner of 
the fence. Why, what can be the matter with him ; he is covered with 
blood, and still bleeding ?” ■ 

“ Why, Tom, what’s the matter ? ” inquired the new comer, as the 
driver came up. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” said Tom ; “ why, them darned horses jerked 
me off my box with their hard mouths, and give me sich a fall on the 
road that they’ve almost broke my skull, and set my nose to bleeding like 


52 


EMMA MORTON. 


a bullock in a slaughter house. And here, too, we have the coacn upsoi. 
Well, I hope none of you passengers are hurt, are you? 

“ No, sir,^^ said Morton; “but it is more owing to our good luck, than 
it is to your good driving.” 

“ Well, I believe that^s true,^’ said the driver ; “ for when I fell from 
my box, in corse I could’nt drive tell I got on agin; and as you see, I 
did’nt get on agin till the coach turned over. And now, if you please to 
help turn it back agin, we’ll go on our journey.” 

By this time, a few other persons had joined them, and the coach was 
righted with ease, and again put in motion, with all the passengers on 
their seats. 

“Well,” said Friend Williams, as they rode along again, “I think we 
have been in great danger of serious injuries.” 

“ Yes,” said Emma; “and we may ascribe our deliverance to a kind 
Providence, for sending that man who stopped the horses ; otherwise, I 
believe we should have been dragged to pieces.” 

“ Doubtless,” said Morton, “ it was a happy thing for us, that he 
came so timely to our rescue. 

“ I fear,” said Mrs. Morton, “ that our danger is not all over yet, with 
this man ; and if we have another drunken driver, we may all have our 
necks broken before we get to the end of our journey.” 

“ O, do not fear, madam,” said Friend Williams, “ for I am determined 
now to watch the drivers ; and if I see another like this one, we will all 
leave the coach to proceed without us, like Mr. Bancroft did.” 

“ I wonder,” said Emma, “ that there are not laws to protect travel- 
ers from the accidents to which they are exposed by these drunken dri- 
vers.” 

“ There are laws,” said Friend Williams, “ in every State in the Union, 
I believe, which profess to have that object in view. But they are so 
incongruous that they have no effect. What man of common sense can 
ever be found who will have due respect for a code of laws, one part of 
which licenses evil, and the other part punishes a man for committing 
that evil ? Surely such a person is not to be found. And yet this strange 
inconsistency is to be met with in the statute books of every State in this 
Republic. Every State licenses men to sell liquor to those who wish to 
drink, and at the same time punishes men for drinking ; and thus one law 
balances the other, and leaves us unprotected from the evils of drunken 
drivers.” 

From these remarks Morton and his family concluded that Friend Wil- 
liams w’as an opposer of alcohol ; and their conversation, during the re- 
mainder of their journey, turned principally on the evils of Intemperance. 


EMMA MORTON. 


53 


‘‘ I have never read much law, sir,’’ said Morton, ‘‘but I have seen it 
operate many times, just as you have said; and always, too, with con- 
tempt for our legislators, who have voted for such inconsistent laws. 
And the excuses they give for making such laws, are generally more ab- 
surd than the laws themselves.” 

“ Exactly so,” said Friend Williams ; “ and how our governors, judges? 
lawyers, law-makers, and, I may add, many ministers and members of 
the church, can have the boldness to try to hoodwink the people, by say- 
ing that the prohibition of the sale of alcohol is not a proper subject for the 
action of our Legislatures, because it is a moral subject, I cannot for the 
life of me discover ; while at the same time they know that it has been 
brought upon us by legislation, and that every year they legislate upon 
it.” 

“ Why, sir,” said Emma, “ if I may be permitted to give my views on 
the subject, I do not think that they all intend to be so inconsistent as their 
conduct makes them appear. Now, as far as my age and opportunities 
have enabled me to form an opinion relative to the course they have 
pursued, it is this: I believe that in their minds they have separated Tem- 
perance and Intemperance from alcohol, and then say that Temperance is 
purely a moral virtue, and as such, it is not a proper subject for legis- 
lation ; and that Intemperance is purely a moral vice, and as such, it is 
not a proper subject for legislation. And they forget, or seem to for- 
get, that the friends of humanity and good, order desire legislative ac- 
tion to remove their tangible, material, destructive enemy, alcohol, from 
our midst, without regard to the mere ideal subjects of either Tem- 
perance or Intemperance. Let them, therefore, look at alcohol and its 
effects, and act towards it as they would towards any other article that 
might be cast amongst us, only half as dangerous and deadly in its effects, 
and then they cannot fail to see that our Legislatures not only have the 
power, but that it is their bounden duty, to protect us from the dreadful 
evils of alcohol.” 

“I thank you. Miss,” said Friend Williams, “for a new idea. You 
have solved a problem that has given me a good deal of study, and I never 
before understood it as I now do. It always seemed to me that the Temper- 
ance party had a mixed subject, composed of a political and a religious 
character, and where to draw the line of separation, I could not before see. 
But you have completely untied the gordian knot ; and I think we can 
now as boldly call for the removal of alcohol from among us, as we can 
for the removal of ravenous beasts, or any other cause of serious inju- 
ries to the people ; and our legislators have no more right to draw Tem- 
perance or Intemperance into the discussion in the former case, than they 


54 


EMMA MOETON. 


have in the latter. All they have to do in the latter is to satisfy them- 
selves that the objects to be removed are destructive to the persons or 
property of the people, and then they pass laws to remove them. And 
in the same manner they should act with regard to the removal of alco- 
hol 5 and as soon as they become satisfied that it is a destructive article, 
and that the people would be benefited by its removal, it is equally their 
duty to pass laws to remove that, also.” 

“ Your remarks, sir,” said Morton, “ are perfectly in accordance with 
my views on the subject. But it seems to me, that Emma made a little 
mistake with regard to Intemperance. She said that it -was deemed an 
improper subject for legislation. Now, Em, if you will recollect, we a 
while ago were holding that up as one of the inconsistencies of our Leg- 
islatures. You know our friend here said that they first licensed a man 
to sell liquor, and then punished the purchaser for getting intoxicated, 
which they could not do if they had not already passed laws against In- 
temperance, and thus shown by their own acts that Intemperance is a sub- 
ject for legislation, whenever they choose to act upon it,” 

O, pa,” said Emma, “I did not hear that remark. But really, is that 
the law, pa ? ” she added with surprise. 

“It is even so,” replied her father; “but what makes you look so 
surprised'? ” 

“ Why, pa, to think that our great men can acl so silly. I verily be- 
lieve that ma and I would not make such blunders, if we were in the 
Legislature,” said Emma, with smiles and blushes. 

“You need not blush,” said Friend Williams; “for I believe you 
speak the truth,” 

Here their conversation was interrupted by the driver stopping, and 
announcing that their suppers would be served up at that stand. 

They went into the tavern, and the smell of liquor strongly tempted 
Morton to indulge in a glass of brandy toddy, his old favorite beverage ; 
but he was surrounded by those whom he knew would not be able to en- 
dure his drinking, a,nd by their presence aiding his resolution, he was en- 
abled to resist the temptation. 

“Good Heavens ! ” he said to himself, “ how shall I be able to keep 
my pledge ! O ! that the infernal scourge of mankind was banished 
from the world, and then we would not have the smell of it thrust under 
our noses every where we go, to tempt us to ruin.” 

The driver soon called the passengers to their seats, and started his 
team; but the landlord called to him to stop for Mr. and Mrs. Beverage, 
whom he said would be ready in a few moments. But by the effects of 
liquor, the moments were more than a quarter of an hour to the vexa- 


EMMA MORTON. 


55 


tion of the driver, and the annoyance of the travelers. But at length a 
man of genteel appearance, about thirty years of age, assisted by a most 
splendid lady, of about twenty-five, with grief-worn cheeks, and the bar- 
keeper, was seated on the front seat of the coach. The lady stopped to 
see her baggage safe, and then took a seat by his side 5 and at the word 
from the driver, the refreshed team seemed determined to make up for 
lost time. The presence of new passengers threw a restraint over our 
party, which seemed to close the avenues of conversation for a time. 
Indeed, they seemed to be inquiring among themselves, what ailed Mr. 
Beverage, and a general silence prevailed in the coach. Mr. Beverage 
laid himself over on his wife, who held her head down, and seemed to 
use every means in her power to make her husband comfortable. Dark- 
ness filled the coach, and each one seemed to be courted by the god of 
sleep. At length, Emma, who was on the back seat by the side of her 
mother, said, in a low voice : Are you asleep, ma ? ” 

“No, indeed,” replied her mother : “neither am I sleepy; and if I 
were, I could not sleep here.” 

“ Why, ma ? ” said Emma. 

“ Because I do not like that Mr. Beverage ; I believe he is intoxica- 
ted,” replied Mrs. Morton ; “ and I am always more afraid of an intoxi- 
cated man than I am of a crazy one,” she added. 

“ And so am I, too, ma,” replied Emma. 

Mr. Morton, whom his wife and daughter thought was asleep, over- 
heard their remarks, and felt mortified at his previous conduct. But 
the attention of all was soon arrested by Mr. Beverage, whose stomach 
began to discharge the poisonous slings and toddies with which he had 
loaded it, and the stench for a time was almost suffocating to the passen- 
gers, and their only relief was, by hoisting the windows of the coach. 
Mrs. Beverage did all she could for her drunken husband ; but as soon 
as his stammering mouth could articulate, he began to abuse and load her 
with all sorts of indecent and obscene names, mixed up with vulgar and 
profane oaths, which none but drunken men can use, and which, even 
the meanest should never hear. His wife, in the mean time, seemed to 
be crushed with grief and shame. After raging for about ten minutes, 
he ordered her to give him some brandy, to settle his stomach. 

“We have none here, my dear,” she said, with a trembling voice. 

“ Then go down to the bar and get some for me,” he said, in a growl- 
ing voice; “or, d — n your soul. I’ll knock your daylights out, you d — d 
cat of hell.” 

“ O ! my dear, we are in the stage-coach now, and not in the tavern, 
and we can’t get any brandy here,” she replied, mildly. 


56 


EMMA MORTON. 


“ Well, d — n you, what did you put me in here for, without bringing 
some along, you d — d b — ch,” he said, gritting his teeth, and slapping 
her on the side of the head so severely, that she fell against the side of 
the coach. 

“Come sir,” said Morton, “no more of that ; and you have now got 
to be quiet, or you’ll have to leave the coach,” 

“ And who the d — 1 are you, that speak so big ? ” he asked, seem- 
ing a little alarmed. 

“ My name, sir, is Morton, and my object is to have peace and de- 
cency in this coach.” 

“ The h — 1 it is,” said Beverage, striking at Morton with his fist, 
which struck the back of Morton’s seat. Friend Williams and Morton 
seized him by the arms, and held him down, and called to the driver to 
stop the coach, and take him out. But Mrs. Beverage said: 

“ O ! gentlemen, please to bear with him a little longer. He will 
soon come to himself now, and be sorry for what he has done. He has 
run nearly out of pocket money. Our bills have been so high at the 
taverns, that I fear we shall not have enough to pay our way home. He 
has had two attacks of delirium tremens, on the road ; and I fear if he 
should be put out here, he will have another, and die before we end our 
journey.” 

Mr. Beverage now became quiet, and all thought their troubles with 
him were over. Mrs. Morton and Emma had been somewhat accus- 
tomed to such conduct at home, so that they were not so much alarmed 
at Mr. Beverage as some might suppose. But they were deeply af- 
fected at the condition of Mrs. Beverage, and in order to relieve her 
mind, Mrs. Morton opened a conversation with her. 

“How far have you to go yet, Mrs. Beverage? ” said Mrs. Morton. 

“ Indeed, madam, I can’t tell exactly ; but they said at the tavern 
where we joined you, that we would get home by to-morrow at noon,” 
replied Mrs. Beverage. 

“How long have you been from home, madam? ” asked Mrs. Morton. 

“ About three years,” replied Mrs. Beverage. 

“Have you been South, madam?” asked Mrs. Morton. 

“No, madam,” said Mrs. Beverage, “we have been in New York 
city. After Mr. Beverage and I were married, about two years, both of 
our fathers died, leaving us about ten thousand dollars a piece, and my 
husband thought it best to go to New York and keep store. He was 
then perfectly a sober man ; true, he drank a little occasionally, when in 
company, but he never got drunk. But unfortunately for us, when he 
settled in New York, he soon took to excessive drinking, and spent all 


:EMMA MORTON. 


57 


we had, and our mothers, who are still living, sent us some money, and 
invited us to come home to them 5 and, as we are their only children, we 
thought it our duty, as well as a great privilege, to return. But we 
have had so much trouble on our journey, by Mr. Beverage drinking, 
that I fear we will never reach our dear mothers.” She filled up with 
grief, and could proceed no further with her narrative. 

All in the coach, except her husband, were much affected by her brief 
story, and said, soothingly : 

“ O ! keep up your spirits ; you will soon be home now.” 

And as Mrs. Beverage made no reply, silence ensued, and they again 
closed their eyes for sleep. The horses had been changed for the last 
time during the night, and the fresh team had run some three or four 
miles, when our passengers were aroused by a loud, unearthly groan, 
from Mr. Beverage. 

“ Good Heaven ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Morton, “ what is the matter? ” 

And Mrs. Beverage cried out, Help me gentlemen ; he’s biting me.” 

The gentlemen sprang forward, and found that her husband had a fit, 
with two of her fingers in his mouth. As quick as they could, they 
pressed his chin down, and released them, but they were badly bitten, 
and caused her much pain. No one could see what injury they had sus- 
tained, but Mrs. Beverage said, they bled very freely, and that she be- 
lieved they were bitten nearly off. She tied them up with her handker- 
chief, and soon turned her attention to her husband, but she could not 
get him to speak, or move. At last, with agonies of despair, she ex- 
claimed : 

“ O ! my God, I believe he is deadf 0 ! O ! what shall I do ? — what 
shall I do? — what shall I do ? O ! my dear William, do, do speak to your 
poor disconsolate Agnes, once more, O ! do.” 

“ My dear madam,” said Morton, “ try to compose yourself. I can- 
not think that your husband is dead. We’ll soon be at the next water- 
ing place now, and we’ll there stop and get a light, and procure medical 
assistance, and try to take care of him.” 

O ! good sir,” she reptied, “I know he is dead — he has no pulse 
whatever, and is now getting cold. O ! William, dear, dear William, 
what a sad end liquor has brought you to. O ! my Saviour, is there no 
way to get rid of this destructive liquor ? O ! thou seest how it is de- 
stroying the human race, and knowest every pang that it gives to wo- 
man’s heart. O ! let mine be the last that shall be pierced by its poison- 
ous sting. O ! thou God of the widow, support me under my sad be- 
reavement.” After this affecting prayer, she covered her face with her 
hands, and sobbed aloud for some time. 


58 


EMMA MOBTON. 


All that heard her, were too deeply affected even to offer a word of 
consolation ; and they rode on, in commingled feelings of sorrow for 
Mrs. Beverage, of horror at the idea of riding with a dead man, and of 
indignation at our Legislatures for not protecting the people from the 
ravages of alcohol. They soon, however, stopped at the watering sta- 
tion, and Mr. Morton immediately stepped out and brought a light into 
the coach.” 

“ Good Heavens ! ” he exclaimed : “ what a horrible sight.” And 
truly it was. The front seat, and Mrs. Beverage’s lap and the skirt of 
her dress were literally besmeared over with blood, from her bitten fin- 
gers, and the discharges from Mr. Beverage’s stomach ; and in the midst 
of it all, there sat the heart stricken widow, holding the head of her dead 
husband on her lap. Her face was stained with blood, and her counte- 
nance wore the garb of deep despair, as silent and motionless, she gazed 
on the face of her husband. It was indeed, a horrid sight, to look upon, 
and it evinced certain proof that he died in a violent fit induced by alco- 
hol. After a close examination, Mr. Morton said : 

“ I am sorry, my dear Madam, to find that your husband is indeed 
dead.” She remained still and silent, and Mr. Morton called his wife 
to speak to her. 

O ! Mrs. Beverage,” said Mrs. Morton, “ I hope the Lord will be 
kind to you, and comfort and protect you in your afflictions.” 

Mrs. Beverage started up as if scared, and said : 

They have killed him with their liquor. O ! what a villainous 
murder.” 

Come, make haste, gentlemen,’.’ said the driver ; “ and do what you 
are going to do, for I must be off.” 

“One of your passengers is dead,” said Mr. Morton; “and you’ll 
have to make some arrangements about it here, for we do not like to 
ride with a dead man. 

“ Dead ! ” said the driver. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Morton. 

“ Well, if that’s the case, we’ll have to call up the landlord to take 
him in here, and see to his funeral,” said the driver. 

The landlord w^as then called, and the corpse taken into the tavern. 
Mrs. Beverage and our travelers followed it into the parlor. 

“ Well, now,” said the landlord, after Mr. Morton had related some of 
the circumstances to him, “ this is indeed a sorrowful case, and I must 
try to comfort this sweet lady with my best treatment.” 

The driver’s voice was then heard calling for his passengers, and Mrs. 
Morton extended her hand to Mrs. Beverage, to bid her good bye. But 


EMMA MORTON. 


59 


with looks and gesture affecting enough to melt a heart of stone, she said 
in a mournful voice : 

“ O, my sister, do not leave me now ! O, stay with me one day, one 
short, little day ! O, do — won’t you ? ” 

Her simple, sorrowful accents covered Mrs. Morton’s cheeks with 
tears, and she turned to Mr. Morton, and said : 

“ My dear, I should like to gratify Mrs. Beverage, if it is in our pow- 
er so to do.” 

‘‘ Most assuredly,^’ said the tavern keeper, “you will all have to stay 
for the coroner’s inquest.” 

“ Indeed, sir,” said Morton, “ our business is entirely too urgent for 
that.” 

“ O, pa,” said Emma, “may we not be suspected of having some hand 
in Mr. Beverage’s death, if we hurry off before an inquest is held on 
the body ? ’’ 

Mr. Morton paused, with an inquiring look at Friend Williams, who 
said : 

“ I believe we had better stop a while, though I consent to do so with 
great reluctance.” 

“ Well, then,” said Morton, “ if you are willing, I will order our bag- 
gage in, and let the coach go on without us.” 

“ Do so,” said Friend Williams, “ and we’ll proceed in this evening’s 
line.” 

Morton attended to the arrangement, and Mrs. Morton said to Mrs. 
Beverage : 

“We have agreed to stay with you to-day, madam, and — ” 

“ Ladies,” said the landlord, “ perhaps you would like a private room. 
If so, follow me.” 

“We thank you,” said Mrs. Morton ; and then the three ladies with- 
drew with the landlord, who in a few moments rejoined the gentlemen. 

“ Well, now,” said he, “ this liquor business is a sad affair, gentle- 
men; and really I see so much human misery growing out of it every day? 
that, although I make a good deal by it, yet I hope the time will soon 
come when it will not be tolerated in the land.” 

“ Why not abandon the trade, then ? ” said Morton. 

“ If I do,” said the landlord, “ I shall not lessen the evil ; while the 
laws allow it to be sold there will always be enough to sell it. And 
even if the number of sellers were decreased, that would have no ten- 
dency to decrease the number of drinkers.” 

“ I think you are wrong, there,” said Morton ; “if the number of 
sellers were diminished, we should not have the smell of it so often un- 


60 


EMMA MOKTON. 


der our noses, tempting us to drink, which I assure you, to one who has 
been in the habit of drinking, is no light temptation.” 

By this time the coroner, who had been previously notified, made his 
appearance with his jury, and opened his inquest over the body of Mr. 
Beverage. They examined it closely, but discovered no marks of violence 
upon it. They then took the testimony on the subject. But Mr. Mor- 
ton and Friend Williams could speak of nothing concerning the matter, 
but the previous night’s occurrences. The jury, therefore, deemed it 
advisable to call Mrs. Beverage, to learn from her what had been the 
habits of her husband prior to his death. She entered, attended by Mrs. 
Morton, and Emma. When she saw the corpse of her husband, she 
clasped her hands together, and exclaimed : 

“ O, dearest William, have they indeed murdered you at last? ” and 
casting herself on the corpse, she added : ‘‘O, my God and Saviour, how 
has this kind, this generous, this noble heart been debauched and slain by 
the friends of alcohol ! ” She then fell on the floor in a swoon ; but she 
was soon placed on a sofa, and medical aid applied, which, after consid- 
erable trouble, enabled her to sit up. 

“My sister,” said Mrs. Morton, “ how are you, now ? ” 

She turned suddenly to Mrs. Morton, and said : 

“ O ! my mother, have you come ? ” and then looking earnestly at her, 
added : “ O, no, you are not my mother, but you are my strange, sweet 
sister. O, the Lord will reward you and this angelic creature, for your 
kindness.” And she threw her arms around the necks of Emma and 
her mother, and sobbed hysterically. 

At this time, a carriage stopped at the door, and two elderly ladies 
in a state of agitation stepped from it. They were met by the host, and 
they asked him if the corpse of Mr. Beverage was there ; and being 
answered in the affirmative, requested to see it. 

“ The coroner, ladies, is now engaged in holding an inquest over it 
excuse me a moment, and I will see whether he will admit you.” 

The coroner consented, and they were conducted into the room. They 
seemed for a moment almost petrified at the awful sight before them. 
But the feelings of the mother soon taking the mastery in their bosoms, 
old Mrs. Beverage poured out a flood of tears on the breast of her dead 
son, and Mrs. Blakely turning to her sobbing daughter, tried to heal her 
wounded heart. 

“ 0 ! my daughter ! ” said she, “be — ” 

“ O ! my mother ! my mother ! my mother ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! my moth- 
er ! my moth — ” exclaimed her daughter, seizing her round the neck. 


ExMMA MORTON. 


61 


and kissing her until the last syllable was pronounced, when she fell 
lifeless to the floor. 

By this time old Mrs. Beverage had become a little composed, and her 
attention was now drawn to her daughter-in-law. Every means were 
employed to restore the grief-worn young widow to breathing, without 
efiect j and her mother had her taken to another room for better attention. 

The jury now seemed satisfied, and they returned a verdict ‘ that the 
deceased came to his death by causes unknown;’ which is the usual ver- 
dict in such cases, when every body else knows that the deceased came 
to his death by a blow from alcohol. The jury dispersed, and arrange- 
ments were made for a *speedy interment of the corpse. While these 
things were going on, the ladies had been attending to young Mrs. Bev- 
erage, from whom, after due examination and consultation, they found 
life had forever departed. 

The bitter anguish of the two mothers, under all the circumstances of 
this short tragedy, can be more easily imagined than described. Indeed, 
it is a picture too gloomy to portray ; and it is therefore left with the 
reader as the facts present it for his contemplation, with a request that 
wnile he looks upon the dead, and hears the widow’s moan, and listens 
to the mother’s lamentation, he will 'ask himself who has slain these 
dead, and caused these moans and lamentations ? And if he has never 
thought of a correct answer before, let him think of it now. And it is 
this : 

“ The voters at the elections of our Republic. In their hands are the 
safety and happiness of their wives, mothers, sisters, daughters and sons, 
until grown to manhood.” Reader, think of the vast responsibility that 
rests upon a voter at the ballot-box. 

Late in the afternoon, when by the industry of our four travelers all 
the preparatory arrangements for the funeral had been completed, the 
two bereaved mothers wished to see them all together for a few mo- 
ments, and accordingly, they all assembled in the parlor. The two moth- 
ers seemed almost heart-broken, but they endeavored to be resigned to 
their doleful fate. 

“ Mrs. Beverage and myself,” said Mrs. Blakely, “ under very sore 
afflictions, dear friends, have met you here, strangers among strangers. 
But strangers as you were to us, we have found you to be the best of 
friends ; and we wished, before we parted, to tender you our heartfelt 
thanks for the consolation your many acts of kindness have afforded us. 
And — and unto you in particular. Miss Morton, are we doubly in- 
debted, for your acting in the capacity of both mistress and servant. 
We shall now soon — part — but I hope we shall meet again, under — more 


62 


EMMA MORTON. 


favorable circumstances. And go where you may, dear friends, our 
earnest prayers will ever be for your health and happiness. I should 
like to say more — but I cannot at this — time. The sadness — of my 
heart chokes — my utterance.” 

With heavy hearts, our travelers took leave of the two childless wid- 
ows, and repaired to their room to prepare for their departure. The fu- 
neral was set for a late hour in the afternoon, in order to keep Mrs. 
Beverage from interment as long as was practicable 5 and, in conse- 
que.nce of this arrangement, our travelers had to leave without witnes- 
sing the ceremonies. Mr. Morton and Friend Williams repaired to the 
bar to settle their bills, but the generous host would not take anything 
from them. 

“ Why, my dear sir,” said Friend Williams ; you cannot live by 
keeping tavern, without charging guests.” 

“ Neither, sir,” said the host, can you live by having to stop in this 
way on the road, to accommodate alcohol. And now, sir, let me tell 
you before you go, that I have seen many of the evil effects of that ac- 
cursed stuff, but to-day’s work exceeds all that I ever saw before. And 
now, before all these gentlemen, and there are twenty or more present, 
I here declare eternal warfare against it ; and never again shall its traf- 
fic stain my hands.” 

“ That is,” said a bystander, “ after you sell out what you have on 
hand.” 

“ No ! ” said the host ; “ I will never sell that, but I’ll give it to the 
filth of the earth.” And as he closed the last word, he seized two of 
his decanters, and emptied their contents in the road 5 and then two more 
and two more, until all his “ Good creature of God,” was poured on the 
earth. 

“ Now,” said he, ‘‘ gentlemen, if you want liquor you will have to go 
somewhere else, for Tom Jones will sell no more.” 

The coach drove up just as the last decanters were emptied, and our 
travelers took their seats once more, and soon found themselves under 
good headway towards their place of destination. 


EMMA MOKTON. 


63 


CHAPTER VIII. 

HOLLAND THE STAGE ACCIDENT. 

There were two gentlemen in the coach when our travelers entered it. 
One an elderly looking man, of good appearance , the other a handsome 
young man, splendidly attired from head to foot. They courteously re- 
signed the back seat to the ladies, and took the one in front. This, of 
course, brought them to face the ladies, and the young gentleman seemed 
particularly pleased at the opportunity of looking at them. 

After they had composed themselves in their seats, Mr. Morton ob- 
served: “ Well,. I am really glad we have got under way again, and I 
hope we shall not meet with such another delay on our journey, for such 
distress I never wish to see again.” 

“ Nor I, either,” replied Friend Williams. But while the cause is 
suffered to exist, we may expect the effect to follow.” 

“ O ! Mr. Morton,” said his wife, “ I do sincerely wish that the oc- 
currences of last night and to-day, were blotted from my memory for- 
ever, for they are too heart-rending to have a place in the human mind. 
I thought it was a sight sad enough before the old ladies came ; but when 
they appeared to add their lamentation to the scene of sorrow which was 
there before, it was almost more than I could bear; and when it was 
known that Mrs. Beverage was indeed dead, her mother took her death 
so hard, that I really thought my own heart would break, and I believe 
that Emma’s consoling voice, was all that saved me.” 

“ Indeed, ma,” said Emma, “you alarmed me more than I ever was 
alarmed before. You turned so pale, and became so nervous, that I 
thought I should not be able keep life in you.” 

“O! you women are too easily excited,” said Mr. Morton; “you 
must learn to take things more calmly.” 

“ Are you speaking of the death at the tavern back here, to-day ? ” 
inquired the elderly gentleman before mentioned. 

“Yes, sir,” replied Morton. 

“ Were you in the coach, sir, last night, when the man died in it ? ” 
he further asked. 

“ We were,” replied Morton. 

“ If you please, sir,” said the young man, “ I would like to hear all 
the circumstances connected with that uncommon death.” 

“Well, sir,” said Morton, “I will endeavor to gratify you as far as 


64 


EMMA MORTON. 


I am able; ” and then began, and related all he knew about it. When 
he ended, the old gentleman observed : 

“ Well, we are called an enlightened people ; but, it seems to me, that 
our light is only used in schemes to make money, and not in schemes to 
benefit the condition of our fellow creatures. If it were, surely we 
would not suffer so many of them to be slain, day after day, by alcohol. 
Improvements are being made every day, in every thing, except in the 
laws, by which our lives, liberties, and happiness, are to be secured. If 
one man kills another, he is hung for it ; but under our present system of 
laws, alcohol may slay its thousands, and it is still permitted to go at 
large. Indeed, there seems to be a strange, I may say, a crazy infatua- 
tion on the human mind about alcohol. It sometimes slays a wife, 
daughter or a friend, by inducing a human being to hold the weapon, and 
our laws sentence the accessory to death, and let the principal, alcohol, 
go free. Many it grieves to death, by slaying their near and dear 
friends ; and still it goes at large unrebuked : retarding the increase of 
population by debauchery, as well as by slaying its thirty thousand a 
year of the inhabitants of the nation. Besides all this, it sows crime and 
pauperism by broadcast, and then taxes us heavily to counteract their in- 
fluence.” 

“ True it is,” said the young man, before noticed, “ alcohol does a 
great deal of mischief to those who let their appetites rule their rea- 
son. But I do not think that those who use it in moderation should be 
deprived of it, because others use it to excess.” 

To this remark, the old gentleman had no time to make a reply. He 
was at his journey’s end for that night, and he left the coach. And 
Morton and his company by fatigue and excitement were inclined to 
seek repose in the best manner they could during the remainder of the 
night. When daylight filled the coach in the morning, all except the 
young gentleman had their eye-lids closed by balmy sleep, and for the 
first time, he had an opportunity of seeing, perhaps, the handsomest face 
that had ever appeared before his eyes. Emma’s head was reclining on 
her mother’s shoulder, with her vail and bonnet pushed back. Her 
beautiful, dark auburn temple-locks hanging gracefully carelessly behind 
her ears, and her countenance clothed with one of those heavenly smiles 
that enchants the eye and captivates the heart. When first the morning 
twilight entered the coach, he threw a careless glance over the sleeping 
passengers, without caring who or what they were. But as the light 
increased, he discovered in Emma’s pale face, something that interested 
him more and more. At last he said to himself : 

“By Jove, that’s a beautiful girl ! I hope none of them will awake 




EMMA MOKTON. 


65 


until I have a full day-light view of her. Her forehead and eye-brows 
are finely formed and turned ; her eye-lids and eye-lashes ! now, they 
are lovely. I wonder what is the color of her eyes ? No matter about 
that ; I hope that sleep will keep them hid until I look my fill on 
her beautiful face, in full daylight. What rich and well moulded 
cheeks ; her nose is perfection ! and is not that the sweetest mouth. O! 
those cherry lips ! Nectar, itself, would not taste half so delectable ; and, 
beneath all, there is a faultless chin, supported by the most lovely neck 
I ever saw. Those auburn curls, too, behind her ears ! How well they 
suit her.” By the time he had thus musingly scanned her features, the 
great lamp of day had filled the coach with its full grown light, and 
gave him the opportunity of having her image fully impressed upon his 
heart. He bent forward with admiring gaze for a moment or two in si- 
lence, and then continued his soliloquy : 

“ Well, she is the most perfect image of beauty and loveliness, I ever 
neheld, and that heavenly smile that plays around her mouth and covers 
her whole face with an expression of virtue and innocence, fills my 
very soul with ” 

Just at that time, one of the front wheels of the coach flew oflf; and 
the sudden fall of one end of the axle-tree, gave such a jog to the pas- 
sengers that it waked them up, and made Mr. Morton’s head give a se- 
vere blow to the protruded nose of the admirer of his daughter. The 
ladies shrieked and trembled with fear, but the driver soon relieved 
them by slopping the coach, and saying : 

“ There is no danger now. Nothing’s the matter, but one wheel’s 
off ; ” and opening the coach door, he invited them out, until the wheel 
could be put on again. 

“ Why, how did this happen, driver ? ” inquired Mr. Morton, 

“ Why, sir,” said the driver, “we have a drunken agent, back here a 
piece, who has neglected to have a lynch-pin made ; and I told him this 
morning that I did not believe the old one would run us through, and he 
merely said, ‘go along. I’ll risk it.’ ” 

“ Well, I am glad it is no worse with us,” said Emma. 

“ It might have been a great deal worse if the wheel had come off on 
a hill-side,” said the driver. 

“ Well, now,” said Friend Williams, “ what is to be done ? ” 

The driver, after a pause, said, “ I guess you had better all go on foot 
to the next station ; it is only about a quarter of a mile ahead, and there 
you’ll get breakfast, and I’ll take the horses up with me, and come with 
the next coach and get your baggage.” 

To this they all agreed, and set off. The young stranger, who had 

5 — 


66 


EMMA MORTON. 


been busily engaged in cleaning the blood from his nose, while this ar- 
rangement was being made, now advanced towards Emma, to escort her 
to the hotel, but she kept close to her mother, and by her words and ac- 
tions gave him to understand that she was not inclined to form acquain- 
tances hastily. 

“ Well,” said Morton, “ I suppose that we may set this little accident 
down to the account of alcohol.” 

“ Most certainly so,” said Friend Williams ; “ and nine-tenths of all 
the accidents that happen on land and water may be added to the same 
account,” 

‘‘ O, my dear sir,” said Morton, turning to the young stranger, our ac- 
cident has deprived me until now, of an opportunity to apologize for the 
injury I have done you.” 

I did not expect you to offer any apology, my dear sir,” said the 
stranger, “ because I knew you could not avoid it ; and I assure you, I 
am perfectly satisfied as it is. Are you traveling far, sir ? ” 

‘‘I am going to the town of C — , in the State of Maine,” replied 

Morton. 

Why, I am going to the same place 5 and as we shall be some time 
in company yet before we arrive there, 1 will invite you to accept my 
card,” said the stranger. 

Mr. Morton accepted the card, and found that the gentleman’s name 
was Henry H. Holland, and then said : 

“I thank you, Mr. Holland, and I’m happy to be acquainted with you,” 

The bell rang for breakfast, and the travelers were soon seated round 
the table. Mr. Holland took good care to get opposite Emma, in order 
to look at her, and to see if she would look at him. He now for the first 
time beheld her beautiful black eyes, which seemed to be made expressly 
to adorn a face of exquisite beauty. He made many efforts to induce her 
to look at him, but without effect. At last he said : 

Well, I think our walk this morning has been for our benefit, by giv- 
ing us appetites for our breakfasts.” 

“It may be so^” said Morton, “but still I would rather eat less than 
have to endure a similar accident to have my appetite increased.” 

“ And so would I,” said Friend Williams. 

“Well, now,” said Holland, “I would like to hear from the ladies on 
the subject.” 

“ I am, most assuredly, sir,” said Mrs. Morton, “ in favor of an ex- 
emption from all accidents.” 

“ And I am, too,” said Emma, looking at her mother, with a modest 
smile. 


EMMA MOKTON. 


67 


The driver’s call now brought the passengers to their seats in the 
coach, and the well-refreshed horses took them along in a rapid gait, and 
nothing further occurred on their journey to impede their progress. Du- 
ring their ride together, Mr. Holland sought every opportunity to ingra- 
tiate himself with Emma ; and being handsome, fashionable and extreme- 
ly polite, as a matter of course one would think he could not fail to gain 
her affections. But her perspicuity saw something in him that induced 
her to keep him at a respectful distance. His remarks, perhaps, about 
alcohol, had closed all the avenues of her tender feelings against him ; 
and besides these, she had a warm attachment for George Blackwood^ 
from whom she had but recently parted ; and, therefore, at the end of 
her journey, she was no more intimate with him than at the beginning. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE SETTLEMENT OF MORTON AND FAMILY UPON THE FARM. 

Early in the afternoon on the fifth day of their journey, when the 
driver stopped to water his horses. Friend Williams handed Mr. Mor- 
ton a package of papers, and said: 

“ Mr. Morton, I now have to leave you ; this package contains every- 
thing that is necessary to place you in possession of the farm, which is 

situate near the town of C , about seven miles further, which, of 

course, you will soon reach ; and this letter contains all the information 
that will be necessary to make everything easy and agreeable. I can 
now do no more, and it will be useless for you to ask any questions. My 
mission is ended, and may the God of Heaven bless and prosper you and 
yours.” He then shook them all three by the hand, affectionately, and 
mounting a horse in readiness for him, was out of their sight in a mo- 
ment. They were Jgreatly surprised at his conduct, which was more 
mysterious than that of his father, many years before ; besides, they felt 
as though they had lost their best friend, and for some time they were 
unable to speak i and Mr. Holland seemed almost as much bewildered as 
they, at the scene that had just passed before them. He looked at Mr. 
Morton and then at the papers, and then at the ladies, and all seemed 
mysterious to him. At length Mr. Morton opened the letter and found 


68 


EMMA MORTON. 


it to contain a note of introduction to William Moore, of the town of 
C , and ample directions about his business. He then said : 

“ I never have heard of anything so strange, in all my life before. I 
had thought that Friend Williams would have continued with us at least 
until w'e were put into possession of the farm. But I have no doubt all 
will turn out fair and right.” 

“I have no doubt of that, either,” said Mrs. Morton ; “but really the 
anysterious manner in which he and his father have acted towards us, 
:lias excited my curiosity to such a degree that I can hardly compose my- 
•self. Their generosity is unparalleled, and why they should cover it 
with such a mystery I cannot divine.” 

“ Well, ma,” said Emma, “ let us not be troubled about the mystery. 
If we will only be content, and do the best we can with the benefits it 
bestows, I have no doubt but that in due time we will know all about 
it.” 

Mr. Holland observed what was said with great attention, but could 
not comprehend the subject on which they were conversing, and deemed 
it impertinent to inquire, and therefore he had to consign it to the depot 
of the other mysteries of his life. 

By the time the coach had arrived at the town of C , Mr. Morton 

had opened the package of papers, and in it he found the deed for the 
farm made in conformity to the promise of Friend Williams, before he 
left New York ; and with it a bill of sale to him for a large amount of 
farming stock and implements of husbandry, necessary for immediate op- 
erations. As soon as the coach arrived at the hotel, a gentleman stepped 
out and received him and his family, and like an old acquaintance invited 
them into the parlor, and then informed them that his name was William 
Moore, and wished them to feel perfectly at home, with him. Mr. 
Morton then handed him the letter of introduction before mentioned. He 
:read it, and said : 

“All is right, Mr. Morton,” and after ringing the bell, added: “1 
snust have these ladies attended to.” Immediately a lady made her ap- 
|)eaV^iilc6. 

“ Mrs. Moore, these are Mr., Mrs., and Miss Mortons — ^the friends 
of whom I have been speaking, and I know you’ll make them welcome 
to our abode, said Mr. Moore, pleasantly. 

“ That I will,” replied Mrs. Moore, and then saluted the ladies with 
an affectionate kiss, and Mr. Morton with a hearty shake of the hand, 
adding as she did so : “ Right glad I am indeed to see you have safely 

arrived, and I bid you welcome to our humble home ; and I hope you 
will feel that you are among your friends.” 


EMMA MOKTON. 


69 


“Dear madam,” said Mr. Morton, “ our kind reception, would, I be- 
lieve, make a man under a fit of the gout feel happy.” 

“ Well, ladies,” said Mrs. Moore, “how have you stood the fatigue of 
the journey ? ” 

“ O, pretty well,” said Mrs, Moiton. 

“ And if we had not,” said Emma, “ I am sure, dear madam, the kind 
atmosphere of your house, would soon heal all our wounds of both soul 
and body.” 

“ Come, now,” said Mrs. Moore, “ no more for the present, but you 
and your ma retire with me, and leave Mr. Morton and Mr. Moore to 
take care of themselves, for a while, if they can.” 

“ Ah ! we can do that,” said Mr. Moore, “ I warrant you.” 

After the ladies had retired, Mr, Moore said: “ Well, Mr. Morton, 

I suppose you have come to make your home in the vicinity of C ; 

and in order to relieve your mind in some degree, I will inform you that 
I have been instructed to conduct you to a most splendid farm, some 
three miles from town. It is amply furnished with every thing neces- 
sary for comfort and profit, and in the morning, our carriage will take 
you and your family to see it ; until then, we will spend the time* in the 
most pleasant manner we can.” 

“ I am very happy to hear of my good fortune. But in the name of 
all that’s good, do disperse the mystery that hangs upon it,” said Mr. 
Morton, in an earnest tone of voice. 

“That, my dear sir,” said Mr. Moore, “I am not permitted to do, fur- 
ther than to inform you that I am your own cousin ; and that is permit- 
ted me, in order thafyou may confide in me.” 

“ Good Heavens 1 ” said Morton, “ I did not know that I had a relative 
on earth.” 

“ Well, you have,” said Moore, “ and some that have been watching 
over you from your earliest childhood ; but for certain reasons they will 
not let you know them, and it will not be advisable for you to make fur- 
ther inquiries about them.” 

The supper bell now called the guests to the table ; and among them, 
appeared Mr. Holland, who seated himself as nearly opposite Emma as 
Ije could, but she paid no attention to him. He made several remarks to 
Mr. Morton, and was answered in a friendly manner. After supper, 
Mr. Morton was invited into Mr. Moore’s private parlor, with his wife 
and daughter ; and being joined by Mrs. Moore and her husband, Mrs. 
Moore said : 

“ Well, friends, what think you of a ride into the country, to-morrow 
morning ? ” 


70 


EMMA MORTON . 


“ If it is to see our new home, I should like it very much,” said Mrs. 
Morton. 

‘‘ And indeed, I should too,” said Emma. 

Can we all go ? ” said Mrs. Moore to her husband. 

“ Certainly we can,” said Moore. •• But ladies,” he added, “what 
think you of your new relatives ? ” 

“ Who are they ? ” inquired Mrs. Morton, with surprise. 

“ Why, has not Mrs. Moore informed you that I am Mr. Morton’s 
cousin ? ” said Moore. 

“ Why, no, my dear, I have not imparted any such information to them. 
I thought that you would rather have the pleasure of doing that, and 
therefore I have kept silent on the subject,” said Mrs. Moore, hastily. 

“ O ! you are a kind soul,” said Moore, pleasantly ; “ and I know our 
relatives will be sure to like you.” . 

“ Will be sure to like her? ” said Emma ; “ nay, we do already like 
her, and you too, sir ; and before long, I believe we shall love you, if you 
continue to be so kind to us.” 

“ Well, Mr. Moore,” said Mrs. Morton, “are you the kind friend to 
whom we are indebted for our good fortune ? ” 

“ No, indeed, dear coz, I am not, neither am I permitted now to tell 
who your friend is, and perhaps you will never know who he is ; but 
that is immaterial, so that you can enjoy his bounty,” replied Moore. 

“ That is true enough,” said Mrs. Morton; “but you know a person 
likes to know to whom they are indebted in order to make payment.” 

“But you will never have to make payment,” said Moore; “and 
therefore you can rest contented on that account.” 

“ Well, I suppose that will be the best way for me to act,” replied 
Mrs, Morton, “and therefore I shall say nothing more on the subject.” 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Moore, “ I think you all had better now retire for 
the night, and get some sleep, for I know you must need it, after your 
fatiguing journey ; and in the morning we will let you see your new 
home.” Our travelers being indeed weary, acceded and retired.” 

“ What a sweet, lovely daughter they have,” said Mrs. Moore to her 
husband, after they had retired. 

“ She is, indeed,” replied her husband, “ the handsomest girl I ever 
saw. O ! what a pity it is that the father of such a child should dis- 
grace her by habits of inebriation. But, Morton has reformed, and 
joined the Washingtonians.” 

“ Ah ! ” replied his wife, “ I fear they will not be able to keep him. 
I believe the only way to keep men sober when they have formed habits 


EMMA MORTON. 


71 


of intemperance, is to take them from the liquor, or the liquor from 
them.” 

“ I believe that is pretty true,” replied Mr. Moore ; “ but, you see he 
is now doubly bound. He is bound by the Washingtonian pledge, and 
by the deed to the farm, and he knows that the moment he becomes in- 
toxicated, he forfeits his title to it ; so that I have strong hopes that these 
restraints, aiding his earnest desire for sobriety, will keep him a sober 
man.” 

“ Well, indeed, I hope so too,” replied his wife ; ‘‘ but you know 
those who drink are always trying to induce others to follow their ex- 
ample ; and, by so doing, they often counteract all restraints, and make 
others as bad as themselves.” 

That is exactly so, my dear,” said Moore ; “ and the fact is too 
plain to admit of contradiction. And, therefore, the only way to rid 
ourselves of the curse of alcohol, is to prohibit its manufacture and sale. 
And it is no use for us any longer to bring liberty, conscience, reli- 
gion, politics, church, state, whigism, democracy, morality or immorali- 
ty, into the discussion about it. We all see and know its destructive and 
blighting influence clear enough to call loudly on our Government to 
protect us from it ; and if our present Government will not do it, the 
people must turn our hard-hearted rulers out of office, and elect men who 
will protect us, which is the grand object for which Governments are 
formed. I really become vexed to hear the frivolous reasons which the 
distiller, the rumseller, the corrupt politician, and others interested in 
its use, urge in its favor ; and had the people the power to revenge the 
wrongs they have inflicted upon them, I should be in favor of awarding 
them no greater punishment than to form them into a nation to them- 
selves, to abuse one another without disturbing or debauching sober men. 
But, it is growing late, let us retire.” 

According to appointment, they were all ready for their journey at an 
early hour, the next morning, and two carriages were waiting at the 
door to receive them. Mr. Holland had paid particular attention to their 
movements ; and, as they advanced to the door, he said to Morton : 

‘‘ Why, you are going to ride early this morning, sir, I perceive.” 

‘‘ Yes, sir,” replied Morton ; “ we are going to our new home, where 
I hope to have the pleasure of your good company occasionally.” 

“ I thank you, sir,” replied Holland ; “ I shall do myself the honor to 
visit you in a few days, if luck attends me.” 

“ Mr. Morton,” said Moore, “ the rear carriage is yours ; but if you 
please we will let the ladies occupy that, and we will take seats in the 
front one.” 


72 


EMMA MORTON. 


“ With all my heart, sir,’’ replied Morton; and after assisting the la- 
dies to their seats, they seated themselves, and proceeded on their way. 

“ This is a delightful morning,” said Morton, somewhat thoughtfully. 

“It is, indeed, sir,” replied Moore, “and every way corresponding to 
the splendid farm and appendages of which you are going to take pos- 
session, and which I hope you will be able to retain, by observing the 
conditions on which you are to hold it,” 

“ I shall do my best to retain it, sir,” replied Morton ; “ but I know 
I am a fallible creature, and that while alcohol is permitted to deluge the 
land, I am liable to be lost, in the undistinguished ruin which it spreads 
over the human race. O ! that I had the power to banish it from the 
face of the earth, and free mankind from its debasing and destructive 
influence. For I know, by experience, that it is almost impossible to ab- 
stain from its use, while it flows so freely among us ; and I dread it 
more than I do death itself, and I had rather die than taste it again ; for 
if I ever taste it, I know that I am sure to drink until I become intoxi- 
cated. O ! wdiat an awful condition is that man in, who has formed hab- 
its of Intemperance,” he added, with a sigh. 

“ I believe you are quite right, sir, there,” said Moore ; “ habits based 
on appetite, are stronger, I believe, than law or any moral influence that 
can be brought against it ; and when an opportunity offers, it will fre- 
quently be indulged in opposition to the dictates of conscience, and our 
better judgment. ‘We see the error, and pursue it still;’ and there- 
fore I am convinced that the only course for the community to pursue, is 
to adopt measures to keep alcohol from it.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Morton ; “ stringent laws must be enacted, and rig- 
idly enforced, before we can get rid of its direful effects.” 

“ True,” said Moore, “ moral suasion has done much in showing the 
people the awful consequences of strong liquors ; but it has gone as far 
as it can go, without the aid of the law. Its course is now completely 
obstructed by appetite, interest, and prejudice ; and unless our Govern- 
ment will aid in the removal of these mighty opposing obstructions, mor- 
al suasion can do no more. Many, we know, like yourself, when they 
have been sorely oppressed by drinking, join the Washingtonians ; but for 
every one that joins them, the traffic adds ten to the number of drinkers; 
and to attempt to oppose the interests now enlisted in favor of alcohol, 
by moral suasion, would be like an attempt to oppose a torrent with a 
feather. The great net of interest which alcohol has spread over the 
community, and which draws large sums of money from the pockets of 
the sober and industrious friends of mankind, to enrich those who choose 
to avail themselves of it, to the destruction of the peace and happiness 


EMMA MORTON. 


73 


of society, is not often measured by the people. There is the distil- 
ler : interest prompts him to be in favor of it, because he finds distilling 
a profitable business. There is the trader in it: he finds his interest 
identified with it, because, from the great facilities it affords for adul- 
teration, it is a very profitable article of traffic. There is the unscrupu- 
lous doctor : interest prompts him to be in favor of it, because it affords 
him many patients. There is the unprincipled lawyer : interest prompts 
him to be in favor of it, because it gives him many clients. There is 
the unjust judge : interest prompts him to be in favor of it, because, 
among a host of other reasons, it gives business to his Court, and affords 
him an opportunity, occasionally, to get a bribe. There is the corrupt 
office-seeker : interest prompts him to be in favor of it, because he can 
float into office on its unthinking current. There is the selfish office- 
holder : interest prompts him to be in favor of it, because it was by 
that, and not by merit, he got into power, and by it he hopes to retain his 
place. There is the upstart selfish editor, who can say “ We who, to 
the disgrace of the noble editorial desk, is vain enough to believe that he 
can sway the sceptre of public opinion by the use of his little pen, and 
much less brains, by putting together a string o£ sophisticated sen- 
tences, and sending them forth to the world : interest prompts him to 
be in favor of alcohol, because it increases his list of advertisements and 
gives him a chance for the patronage of all its friends. And lastly, 
there is the time-serving preacher : interest prompts him to be in favor 
of it, because some of his wealthy hearers, who pay him liberally, make 
their money by trading in it. And this mighty host, composed of per- 
sons from different classes, who are, in the general, men of volubility 
and effrontery, for the sake of interest, have drawn from the depths of 
the infernal regions a dark cloud of prejudice, and artfully keep it over 
the people, while, in this country alone, they are destroying annually 
thirty thousand human beings, by persuading them to use their poisons. 
And with all these awful facts before them, they have faces hard 
enough to assert, ‘ That it is contrary to the articles of our Constitu- 
tion to enforce virtue by legislative enactments.’ While, at the same 
time, they know that our whole criminal code is in support of virtue, 
and know, also, that the Temperance party want no law to support vir- 
tue, directly, but that they want a law to protect the community from 
the evils of alcohol, as well as a law to protect it from murder, theft, 
and all the other offenses prohibited by the Government; and if, indirect- 
ly, a law of the sort would go to the support of virtue, that is no reason 
why it should not be passed, for all the laws in the criminal code do the 
same. And while the laws remain as they are, I do not censure any 


74 


EMMA MORTON. 


man for using alcohol either for profit or pleasure. It is his right so to 
do, within the bounds of his license, and no body has any right to say 
nay to him. But here we are at your home.” 

The party then stopped at a large front gate. But, before we go in, 
let us notice a part of the conversation in the rear carriage. 

“ How do you like these parts of the country, ladies ? ” inquired 
Mrs. Moore, as the carriage rolled along over a good road, with well im- 
proved farms on either side. 

“ We are much pleased with them,” said Mrs. Morton. 

“ That’s a lovely place, yonder,” said Emma, pointing to a newly fin- 
ished mansion. 

‘‘ Yes,” replied Mrs. Moore, “ that’s the residence of Judge B., one 
of the most thorough-going Temperance men we have, and the most 
pleasant gentleman I ever met with. He frequently visits our house, 
and I take great delight in his company. I like dearly to hear him con- 
verse on the Temperance cause.” 

“There, Emma,” said Mrs. Morton, “there is another fine place. I 
think that is as handsome as Judge B.’s.” 

“ Indeed that’s very pretty,” replied Emma ; “ but I do not like it as 
w^ell as his. It seems to have rather too much ornamental work for its 
general plan of architecture, which mars its symmetry.” • 

“That’s the residence of General Jarvis,” observed Mrs. Moore : 
“he’s a member of our Legislature, and directly opposed to Judge B. on 
V the Temperance question. They frequently argue on it at our house ; 
but I think the Judge generally gets the better of him. But, Emma, 
how do you like that youn^ gentleman that spoke to your father as we 
left our house ? ” 

“ Do you allude to Mr. Holland ? ” inquired Emma. 

“ The same, my dear,” replied Mrs. Moore. 

“ Well, madam,” said Emma, “ I cannot say that I like him at all.” 

“ Why ?” said Mrs. Moore ; “ I am sure he’s very handsome and fash- 
ionable, and from appearances I should believe well off, too.” 

“ Neither beauty, fashion or wealth madam,” said Emma, “could ever 
induce me to like him. I do not believe his mind is congenial with 
mine ; and therefore his company, in all probability, would be unpleasant 
to me.” 

“ Are you acquainted with him, Mrs. Moore,” asked Mrs. Morton. 

“ But slightly, madam,” replied Mrs. Moore. “ He has put up at our 
house, several times. But all that I know of him is, that he is the only 
child of a distiller in a town below this place ; and that he has been here 
two or three times during the past year. What his business up here 


EMMA MORTON. 


75 


is, I cannot tell, but believe it is partly for pleasure and partly for pro- 

fit.’^ 

“I am obliged to you, Mrs. Moore,” said Emma, “ for the information 
you have given me of Mr. Holland. I now believe my first impressions 
respecting him were correct, and I hope I shall never meet him again ; 
for there is nothing that makes me hold a young man in greater contempt, 
than for him to use or traffic in alcohol.” 

“ I applaud your principles, my dear,” said Mrs. Moore ; “ and if you 
will but adhere to them, they will prevent you from ever marrying a 
drinking man.” 

“ There is a rough looking place,” said Mrs. Morton. 

‘‘Yes, madam,” replied Mrs. Moore; “that is a tavern owned and 
kept by Rodney O’Brien, to the destruction and disgrace of many young 
men of the neighborhood. And this meadow here on this side of the 
road, is the beginning of your farm.” 

“ Well, I am sorry that we have to live so near this drinking house,” 
said Mrs. Morton. 

“Indeed, I am sorry, too,” said Mrs. Moore. But it is impossible to 
get O’Brien out. The people in the vicinity have been trying for years 
to break him up, or buy him out, and they can do neither ; and here he 
stays, making one-half of the people drunkards, sustained by the laws, 
in wrecking the hopes of fathers, and breaking the hearts of mothers, 
and wives.” 

The carriage now stopped until the gate was opened, and then drove 
to the mansion door, and the party went into the house.’* 


CHAPTER X.. 

THE CONSPIRACY MORTOn’s LECTURE BLACKWOOd’s VISIT. 

Now, the reader need not fear that I am going to weary his patience 
by a long and tedious description of one of the most splendid farms and 
appurtenances in the State of Maine, together with the live and dead 
stock — ^the mansion — the barns — the household and kitchen furniture, 
&c., &c.: for I am going to do no such thing. All I am going to tell him 
about the whole establishment is, that after the party had spent the day 
together, Mr. and Mrs. Moore left Mr. Morton and his family in quiet 


76 


EMMA MOKTON. 


and indisputable possession of one of the best and most beautiful farms 
in the State, with an abundant supply of all things that convenience or 
luxury could require, on an estate of the sort. “ Well,” said Mr. Mor- 
ton, when casting his eyes round on the rooms and rich furniture, after 
Mr. Moore and his lady had departed, “I should be very glad to know 
my kind friend who has been so liberal towards me ; and I hope that be- 
fore long he will make himself known, or at least let us know the rea- 
sons why he has acted so mysteriously towards us in the distribution of 
his bounty.” 

“ I have no doubt,” replied his wife, “ that he has good reasons for 
keeping himself concealed from us. But, still, I hope those reasons 
will soon cease to actuate him ; for I must confess that the mystery con- 
nected with his bounty deprives it of half its value so far as I am inter- 
ested in it.” 

“ O ! ma,” said Emma, let us turn our attention to the art of im- 
proving our good fortune, and with gratitude to God for our kind bene- 
factor endeavor to make each other happy.” 

“ That is good advice, my daughter,” replied her mother , “ and I 
shall, on my part, strictly pursue it.” 

“ And so will I, with all my heart,” said her father ; “ and now, to 
begin, I wish you to play and sing that sweet song you favored us with 
this afternoon.” 

“ I will with pleasure, dear pa, do the best I can,” said Emma ; “ but 
before I begin, I have a request to make of you and ma, which is, to 
permit me to call you mother and father. I like these words better then 
ma and pa.” 

To this her parents readily assented ; and she then, in her best style, 
played and sung the appropriate song “ Home.” At any time there 
were but few that could excel her either in singing or playing ; but on 
the present occasion the surrounding circumstances increased her musi- 
cal powers, and gave such an effect to the song, that they were all melt- 
ed into tears ; and when Emma concluded Mrs. Morton fell on her knees, 
and poured out the fullness of her heart in a grateful prayer and thanks- 
giving to Almighty God, and at the close, her husband and daughter res- 
ponded with a loud Amen. 

The third day after they were thus happily settled in their new home, 
Mr. Holland paid them a visit. Mr. Morton and his wife received him 
kindly, but Emma still treated him as a stranger. During the afternoon 
he sought many times to have a few moments’ conversation with her 
alone, but she took particular care to prevent it ; and, in the evening, he 
returned to town with a heart full of love, and his brains on the rack to 


EMMA MOKTON. 


77 


find out some plan to gain his beloved. After retiring to his room, he 
paced the floor for a few moments in deep thought, and then threw him- 
self on the bed. 

“ By Heavens ! Fll have her,” he said to himself, if it costs all my 
father’s distillery to get her. What a most beautiful creature she is. 
With what art and grace she plays the piano, and how sweetly she sings. 
I must — I will have her, if I have to steal her. I’ll visit her again to- 
morrow.” 

According to his word, he went the next day immediately after' break- 
fast j and after spending the whole day in her company, returned with 
the same success he did the day before, but much deeper in love. 

“ Well, this is too bad,” he said to himself ; “ she will not allow me 
a moment’s opportunity even to give her a hint that I love her, and 
seems to take no more notice of me, than she would of an old man of sev- 
enty. She has the most wonderful tact of being respectful and yet dis- 
tant, that I ever saw in woman before. I see I have no other way of 
making my love known to her, than by letter, and that I’ll write forth- 
with.” 

Poor man ! he little thought that Emma fancied that she could see the 
image of his father’s distillery in his face, and that she heard in his voice 
the awful groans that alcohol produces. 

The next day Mr. Morton and Emma rode to town, and Emma called 
at the post-office, hoping to receive a letter from Blackwood ; and, when 
Holland’s letter was handed to her, she turned pale with joy. But she 
soon discovered that it was from Holland, and put it into her pocket un- 
read. When she went home, she wrote on it, “ Sir, I return this un- 
read. Emma Morton : ” and then showed it to her mother, who ap- 
proved her conduct, and the letter was returned to the post-office. Hol- 
land received it the next day, and in a rage tore it to pieces, and said: 

“ By G — d. I’ll humble and reduce her to poverty, and then she will 
be glad to have me.” He then paused for a few moments. 

“ Yes,” said he, “I have it. I’ll employ O’Brien and our liberals 
to use all their influence to get her father drunk, and that very moment 
they succeed, he forfeits his estate. And then I will accomplish two 
objects. I’ll get Emma, and I’ll weaken the cause of Temperance. A 
good idea ! bravo ! I’ll set them at work immediately, and return home, 
and leave my malt to soak. The liberals meet to-night, and 111 start my 
mill without delay.” 

At an early hour that evening, several persons who thought them- 
selves respectable, were seen slyly to enter one after another into “ The 
People’s Exchange,” the only human slaughter-house there was kept in 


78 


EMMA MORTON. 


the town of C . And by nine o’clock all the interested classes 

were represented in the assemblage gathered together in the Exchange 
of Mr. Levi Lovepenny. Among them were General Jarvis, who w^s 
a lawyer, a legislator and a justice of the peace ; Mr. Henry H. Hol- 
land, a son of a distiller ; Rodney O’Brien, a tavern-keeper : Doctor 
Leach, Editor Puff, and Deacon Doughface. 

‘‘ Well, gentlemen,” said the General, “I think the friends of liberal 
principles are pretty fairly represented here to-night, and by way of 
commencing business, let’s take some brandy. All agreed, and Love- 
penny let his liquor flow freely, until all had quenched their thirst. 

Gentlemen,” said Holland, “I have observed of late, that the Tem- 
perance party is gaining upon us rapidly. This Washington move- 
ment has added greatly to their numbers, and increased their popularity 
beyond measure ; and I think it behooves every liberal minded man to 
make strong efforts to stop their fanatical career. If we do not, the day 
is not far distant when they will banish every sort of liquor from our 
State ; for I hear some of their leaders are saying already, that the Leg- 
islature ought to prohibit its use as a beverage altogether.” 

“O! that’s all nonsense,” said the General ; ‘‘ the Legislature has no 
power to do that. It would be contrary to the Constitution of the State, 
as well as repugnant to the Constitution of the Uniied States, for our 
Legislature to pass a law prohibiting us from using it as we please. 
No Legislature has a right to say what the people shall eat, or what they 
shall drink.” 

“But suppose, sir,” said Puff, “that the Temperance party out-vote 
us, can they not then have the Constitution altered to suit their wishes?” 

“Most assuredly they can,” replied the General. “But, sir, we 
must prevent their out-voting us, by a more liberal distribution of li- 
quors, and by increasing our number of secret agents to induce the un- 
thinking young men to drink ; and thus we can maintain the mastery at 
the ballot-box.” 

“ That’s right, General,” said O’Brien ; “ and if your honor will only 
keep me in liquor, and continue to back me in my trade, as you have 
done heretofore, I’ll make twenty drunkards, quicker than these Wash- 
ingtonians can take one from the gutter, and hang him up to dry.” 

“ Good,” said Leach; “ and I have no doubt that each party will ful- 
fill his engagements.” 

“ Why, gentlemen,” said the General, “ I have made no engagement 
about it ; but I have always endeavored to keep O’Brien from being op- 
pressed by these narrow-minded Temperance men, that’s all.” 

“Well, gentlemen,” said Holland, “there is a man lately come to 


EMMA MORTON. 


79 


town, t^t I believe, if left alone, will do us a good deal of mis- 
chief. Perhaps you all know him. I allude to T. J. Morton. He has 
once been a liberal drinker, but now he is a member of the Washingto- 
nians, and I believe he is to speak for them to-morrow night.” 

“ I know him,” said O’Brien ; ‘‘ and I have set my eye upon him, and 
I have no fear of having him down before long, drawing the bottle har- 
der than ever he drew his mother’s breast.” 

Holland’s heart leaped for joy at O’Brien’s expression. 

By this time the party became thirsty, and all joined again in a hearty 
drink, and then pursued their business, the grand object of which was 
to make drunkards ; and, after pledging themselves to this etfect, and 
drinking until they were fully freighted, they set sail for their respec- 
tive homes. As they were going out, Holland touched O’Brien and 
took him aside. 

“ O’Brien,” he said, “ I was much pleased with, your remarks rela- 
tive to Morton. I consider him, as he is, the most dangerous enemy we 
have ; and if you will get him over to our party, I will give you .five 
barrels of the best liquor we make, three of which, I will send you as 
soon as I go home, and the other two you shall have, as soon as you suc- 
ceed.” 

“Agreed, by the Holy Saint Patrick,” said O’Brien 5 “and now 
good night, Mr. Holland.” 

“Good night, sir,” said Holland. How luckily everything has 
worked for me, to-night,” he continued to himself, “I must now go 
home in the morning and return again as soon as practicable, to spur 
O’Brien on, for I can have no rest until I can call that sw^eet angel 
mine,” 

The next evening Morton and his family attended the Washingtonian 
Temperance meeting, which was numerously attended by all classes of 
society. He addressed the assembly in an eloquent manner, and closed 
by an appeal to the makers and venders of ardent spirits, and to the 
inebriate, with such affecting simplicity, that all hearts were touched 
with pity, and all eyes were filled with tears. After portraying in a 
lucid manner some of the evils of making and selling alcohol, he said : 

“Now, sirs, I cannot wish you to believe that I intend to calumniate or 
abuse any one, for manufacturing or selling liquor ; for I do not intend 
to do any thing of the kind, because it is lawful for any person so to 
do, and I do not think a man should be appeached for following any le- 
gal calling. There is a law of conscience which I hold to be superior to 
the statutes of the State ; but the former is interpreted by every man 
for himself, and of course its interpretation is various and uncertain, 


80 


J5MMA MORTON. 


while the latter is interpreted by Ihe superior Court, and of course its in- 
terpretation is certain and fixed. Now, under this state of things, I do 
not deem it right for me to censure my neighbor for following a business 
that his conscience tells him is right, because mine tells me it is wrong. 
Were I to do so, I should consider that I was arrogating to myself the 
right to make my conscience a judge for his, and then another might act 
in^the same way by me, and this conduct carried out, would soon leave 
us without any right of conscience at all. Therefore, I believe that 
when we see a man doing that which our conscience tells us is wrong, 
we should endeavor to enlighten his conscience,- instead of dealing in 
increpation or abuse ; and this has been my object to-night. I have prob- 
ably recounted nearly a tithe part of the many classes of evils, and hor- 
rible sufferings which alcohol | roduces. I have shown, as has often 
been shown before, that the whole traffic is evil, and only evil, and that 
continually ; and now I would respectfully and affectionately ask the 
man who is engaged in spreading this evil, if his conscience does not 
tell him that he is doing wrong. " Aye, I believe every man in this re- 
spected audience is convinced of that fact. I do not believe there is one 
here whose conscience does not tell him that it is wrong to aid in the 
diffusion of a poison that cuts in twain the dearest and sweetest ties of 
family affection, and consigns so many of our fellow creatures to a pre- 
mature grave. 

There are some in the world, I suppose, on whose mind the glare of 
a sixpence will keep out the light of truth. But even that man I will 
not censure. He deserves my heartfelt pity for being deformed with so 
small a soul. And there may be some engaged in the blood stained traf- 
fic, who know and admit that it is wrong, but continue it because they 
believe if they do not reap the profits of it others will, and therefore they 
continue to murder willfully because others kill ignorantly. But even 
such a man as this I will not censure. On him censure cjin have no ef- 
fect — nothing but the gallows, can make such a monster feel. The con- 
templation of such beings chills my inmost soul, and for the dignity of 
human nature, I hope they are few and far between.’* 

“ I now wish to be indulged for a few moments while I make a re- 
mark or two to those who like myself have been tortured by alco- 
hol. My dear friends — some years or months ago, you were free from 
the servitude of liquor; and had begun to drink a little once in 
a while, just for company’s sake : and being men of generous minds, 
as most drinking men are, you continued the evil habit, under a de- 
lusive notion that you could abandon it when you pleased, until to your 
great dismay, the startling fact stared you in the face that you were 


r 


t 


EMMA MOB TON . 


81 


a full-grown drunkard. To this depth of degradation you have waded 
through the tears of mothers, wives, sisters and children, whose mid- 
night prayers, in your behalf, like angels’ sweetest notes, have filled 
the courts of heaven — and the ‘ still small voice,’ bearing the seal of 
life and health, has come to you from above, and whispered often in your 
ear of conscience, ‘Stop, taste it not. It will be your ruin.’ For a 
time, a mother’s tears have floated before your imagination. A little 
daughter’s hungry cheeks and tattered dress, have crossed your mind, 
and a beloved heart-broken wife’s last request : ‘ O ! my dearest Wil- 
liam, drink no more,’ has caused your heart to ache, and your manly eyes 
to suffuse with tears. Hesitation for a time has closed your lips, and 
past ebriety has stamped upon your mind a faint resolution to drink no 
more. But, O ! the cruel spoiler was in the land and met your eye at 
every step: ‘Come,’ said he, ‘this is sweet and nice; take a little, it 
will do no harm-, come, just taste it.’ You have yielded again, and 
again you have fallen. O ! my drinking brothers, do you love your 
wives and children ? I know you do, for drunkards generally have the 
best and most faithful wives in the world. You must pardon my ego- 
tism, and permit me to say, that I have a wife and daughter that I love 
with my whole heart ; and yet, like you, I have so far forgotten myself 
and them as to make their hearts ache by getting drunk. O ! what a 
cruel thing it is, to abuse our dear wives and children, as we do, by get- 
ting drunk. Come, then, one and all, and join the Washingtonians, a 
band of brothers, united to save each other and their families from the 
evils of a monster’s grasp.” 

The pledge was then circulated, and most all the drinkers, as well as 
many others, joined the society. Even Rodney O’Brien said, that he 
was almost persuaded to join. 

From that time Morton had many warm friends among the Temper- 
ance men, and many bitter enemies among the rum-sellers. The next 
day, as General Jarvis was riding past O’Brien’s, he stopped to take his 
glass of sling, and while there, he said : 

“Well, O’Brien, how did you like the Temperance meeting last 
night ? ” 

“Why, General,” said O’Brien, “I was right well pleased; and I be- 
lieve if I were to hear Morton again, he would make a Temperance man 
of me.” 

“ The devil he would,” said the General. “ Now, O’Brien, that’s 
just what I tell our boys ; and I believe it is a fact, if they were to at- 
tend these foolish meetings often, they would soon become as great fools 
6 — 


82 


EMMA MORTON. 


as the Temperance men. Now, O’Brien, I think you had better stay 
away from them.” 

“ O ! I intend to do so,” said O’Brien ; “ I just went last night to see 
what Morton was made of.” 

“ Well, that’s your better course,” said the General, and rode off. 

Well, Emma, I believe Mr. Holland has forsaken us,” said Mrs. 
Morton, one morning after Mr. Morton had gone to town. Emma 
dropped her hands and work down in her lap, and replied : 

‘‘ And I hope forever, mother, for I do think of all the men I ever 
saw, he is the most offensive to my sight ; and, if I can avoid it, I never 
will speak to him again, even at the risk of a breach of politeness.” 

“Well, I shall not blame you,” said her mother; “and I hope that 
Mr. Morton will hereafter keep him at a distance. But Em, what are 
you making ? ” 

“ O ! it’s a little purse, mother,” said Emma. 

“ Why, that is very beautiful, Em,” said her mother, taking hold of 
it and turning it in her hand. 

“ Who is it for ? ” Emma blushed. “ Why, you need not blush, my 
child : I shall not betray you; come, tell me all about it.” 

“Well, mother,” said Emma, “ I thought, that perhaps, George would 
some day come this way, and that I would make him a little present for 
his many acts’of kindness towards us.” 

“ That’s all well enough, and I see no harm in doing so,” said her 
mother. “ Why, you have it almost done. When did you do all this, 
Em, I never saw you at it before ? ” 

“I have done it mostly o’nights, after going to my room,” said Emma. 

“Why, Em,” said her mother, “I thought you always went immedi- 
ately to bed, after retiring.” 

“ Well, indeed, mother, I sit up sometimes nearly half the night rea- 
ding or doing something else,” said Emma. 

“ And what do you read? ” inquired her mother. 

“ O ! I read almost anything that I meet with, especially if it is con- 
nected with the cause of Temperance,” replied Emma. 

A gentle tap summoned Emma to the door, with her mind dwelling 
on the Temperance cause. She opened it, and under the impulse of joy 
and confusion, she threw herself with sisterly affection into the extended 
arms of George Blackwood. He pressed upon her beautiful forehead 
an unmistakeable seal of love. But before he could sjjeak, she said 
seemingly to herself, “ O ! what have I done.” 

“ What, I hope my dearest girl, you will never do to another, while I 
am alive,” replied Blackwood. 


EMMA MOKTON. 


83 


“ O ! sir,” said Emma, “ please to excuse my foolish act. I was ta- 
ken by surprise ; and — but” — 

“ O ! dear Emma,” said Blackwood, “there needs no apology. I love 
you sincerely, and that’s what brought me here; and you, I think (draw- 
ing her close to his breast) love me, and that’s what made you throw 
yourself in my arms ; and, so, you see, we are both in fault alike, and 
therefore, let’s say we are even.” 

“ Well, be it so,” said Emma; “but come,” she continued, “walk in 
and see mother.” 

Mrs. Morton received him with the most affectionate politeness. He 
spent some two weeks in the family, during which time many happy 
seasons were enjoyed, and then he returned home, under the promise 
that he would visit them again, as soon as his business would permit. 


CHAPTER XI. 

MORTON' IS BESET BY ENEMIES GENERAL JARVIs’s TRICK. 

Time rolled on — witnessing, as it passed, the unalloyed peace, joy and 
harmony, that reigned throughout Mr. Morton’s family. His \yell im- 
proved and judiciously tilled farm added daily to his sources of enjoy- 
ment ; and afforded every comfort that heart could wish, and something 
to spare. And in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Moore, and other kind 
acquaintances, many happy hours rolled over their heads. His efforts 
in the cause of Temperance were crowned with great success, and ma- 
ny wives and children spoke his praise for delivering their husbands and 
fathers from a drunkard’s life. In fact his popularity with the Tem- 
perance party was unbounded ; and, as a matter of course, this brought 
him under the ban of their opponents, and made him a mark for all their 
malignant darts ; and they resolved at all hazards to slay him by alco- 
hol. He was beset first by one and then by another, with persuasions 
to take just a little, by way of sociability and friendship. And when 
they found that they could not succeed by persuasion, they would try 
the effect of ridicule until he would leave them in disgust. Many in 
town professed great friendship for him, and they would try by flattery 
to get his opinion on their “ good liquors.” But O’Brien’s was the place 
he most dreaded ; and this he resolved not to visit, unless under extra- 


84 


EMMA MORTON. 


ordinary circumstances : for he knew that the smell of liquor had 
greater weight on his mind to induce him to drink than any thing else. 
His enemies were also aware of this. And when they found that they 
could not induce him to enter O’Brien’s bar-room, they would seek op- 
portunities to meet him with their bottles in their hands, and invite him 
to drink with them by way of sociability. General Jarvis sought an 
opportunity to overtake him. one evening as he was returning from town. 

“ Good evening, Mr. Morton,” said he ; “ this is rather unpleasant 
weather, sir.” 

“ Yes, it is, sir,” replied Morton , “ but we must take the unpleasant 
as well as the pleasant, you know.” 

“ Well, that’s very true, sir ; and it behooves us to make the best we 
can of things as they pass,” replied Jarvis. “ How would you like to 
trade horses, Morton?” he added. 

“ O ! I don’t know,” said Morton. 

Well, sir,” said Jarvis, “ I will give you mine, and ten dollars to 
boot, for yours.” 

Now, Morton’s horse, the General knew, was not worth as much as 
his, and Morton was a little surprised at the offer ; but not thinking of 
the trick that Jarvis had in view, he agreed to the proposition. 

“ Well, then,” said Jarvis, “we have just arrived at O’Brien’s in good 
time. We’ll step in and pass bills, if you please.” 

They went in together, and the first thing the General did was to try 
to get Morton to drink. 

“ Come, O’Brien,” said he, “make us a couple of good mint slings.” 
His mistake in the kind of drink, was probably all that saved Morton. 
He disliked the smell of mint, and that overpowered his love for the 
smell of brandy, and enabled him to resist Jarvis’s oratory to induce him 
to drink, and after being teased and worked upon until his patience gave 
way, he said : 

“ General Jarvis, we came in here to ratify a horse trade ; and if you 
are ready to attend to it, we will do it at once : if not, sir, we will say 
no more about it.” 

By this time, Jarvis had drank a couple of slings, taking good care, as 
he did so, to hold them close to Morton, hoping that the smell of them 
would induce him to |drink. But his conduct had the contrary ef- 
fect. Taking another glass in his hand, he said : 

“ Now, my good fellow, don’t be so impatient. Here take just a 
taste of this, and I will let you off and attend to our trade.” 

“ I would not taste it, sir, for both horses, and all you are worth be- 
sides. And, sir, I now take the liberty of telling you that I believe if 


EMMA MOETON. 


85 


there is one crime that a man can commit blacker than all the rest, in 
the long catalogue of crimes, you this . day have attempted that crime 
on me by trying to ruin two helpless females and myself, by getting me 
to drink your maddening poison. And I now wish you to understand, 
that I shall consider it an insult for you ever to ask me to drink again,” 
said Morton, and went home. 

“ Well, by all the laws of Moses, but he’s a hard case,” said Jarvis to 
O’Brien, after Morton had left them. 

“ Well, I told you so,” said O’Brien, “and I know of but one man 
that I believe can catch him, and that’s Bill Roper. I believe he can 
fetch him to the trough, fodder or no fodder. He’s brought many a hard 
horse to it ; and I have no doubt but that Morton would be a mere colt 
in his hands. But he’s not here now.” 

“ Where is he,’ inquired the General. 

“ I think he went to Boston some time since. But I guess he will 
soon be back now, for he said he did not intend to stay long,” replied 
O’Brien. 

“ I know the fellow, well,” said Jarvis 5 “ and I have missed him for 
some time. I have seen him at work on the stubborn mules, and I tell 
you he’s a whole team on them. We must have him on Morton, let it 
cost what it will : for if he is not brought over to our side, these small- 
souled Temperance fanatics will not let us have a single drop before 
long. You must try to learn where Roper is, and get him here, and 
we’ll take care of him.” And, after taking another sling, he rode off, 

Mr. Morton went home in a very thoughtful mood, and had but little 
to say to his family. His taciturnity was noticed by his wife and 
daughter, with some uneasiness, but they deemed it prudent to say noth- 
ing about it in his presence. Emma played and sung some of her sweet- 
est songs ; but his love for music was buried in thought and her melody 
made but little impression upon his mind. At an earlier hour than 
usual, he retired to his chamber in the same thoughtful mood in which 
he came home. After he had withdrawn, Emma threw her arms 
around her mother’s neck, and bedewed her cheeks with tears. 

“ O, mother ! ” she exclaimed, “ what can be the matter with dear 
father ? do you think he has been drinking ? ” 

With a bosom equally full of anguish, her mother replied : 

“ O ! no, my daughter ; I think some business transaction presses on 
his mind, and makes him more thoughtful than common. But let me 
hasten to him with all the consolation a woman can impart. And you, 
my daughter,” she added, looking affectionately at her, and pressing the 
seal of a mother’s love thrice upon her beautiful cheek, “ dry up these 


86 


EMMA MOETON. 


tokens of grief, and seek comfort in the esperance that the dark cloud 
which has come over us to-night will soon be dispelled by the bright 
sunshine of joy. Trust in God, and go to sleep. I think all will be 
well in the morning. Good night.” 

At the last word they kissed and retired for the night to their respec- 
tive rooms. Emma confided in her mother’s words ; and after com- 
mending her parents and herself fervently to the care of him who never 
sleeps or slumbers, took her place in bed. And Mrs. Morton found 
her husband sitting on a lounge, with his coat half off, and seemingly in 
deeper thought than ever. She took a seat by his side, and with the 
most endearing looks, in a loving manner threw her arms around his 
neck, and rested her head on his shoulder, and with tears rolling down 
his cheeks, said : 

“ O ! my dear Thomas, let your poor Ellen know the cause of your 
corroding grief, so that she may share it with you. You know that she 
would not let one pang touch your heart, if she could bear it for you,” 
Like one aroused from sleep, he looked upon her, and said : 

‘‘ O ! my best and dearest of all blessings, I had forgotten you in the 
deep study in which I have been engaged to discover a plan by which I 
can save you, and dear Em, and myself, from the troubles and sorrows 
I believe our enemies are seeking to bring upon us. O ! excuse me, if 
in this, I have slighted you.” 

“You have not done anything my dear, for which we have not already 
excused you. But in the name of all goodness, how have we made en- 
emies ? ” asked his wife. 

“Well, hear and I’ll tell you,” he said, with a sigh. “You know 
I am a reformed drunkard. Now, all such men find it much more dif- 
ficult to abstain from liquor than those who have never fallen to the 
drunkard’s class. For, in addition to their thirst for liquor, they 
have to contend against all the drinkers, venders and manufacturers 
of alcohol, by whom they may be surrounded ; in fact, against all, 
except the members of the Temperance Societies. And he that is the 
most influential in the Temperance cause, has the most to contend 
against ; and hence it is, that so many who reform, fall back into the 
filth of ebriety. Now you know that the great reformation in favor of 
Temperance in this vicinity is in part attributed to my eflbrts, and for 
that reason all the enemies of Temperance are our enemies ; and they 
are using every metans in their power, honorable and dishonorable, to 
reduce me to a drunkard’s grade. I am beset on every side, first by one 
and then by another, with all sorts of arguments and all sorts of means 
to induce me to drink. Even General Jarvis stooped to the constupra- 


EMMA MORTON. 


87 


ting work this evening, by a proposition for a horse-trade, and before I 
was aware of it, prevailed on me to go into O’Brien’s slaughter-house, 
to sign our bills ; but instead of attending to that business, he tried all 
his mean trickery to induce me to drink with him, and I believe I was 
saved only by his mistake in calling for mint sling instead of brandy tod- 
dy. The smell of mint I very much dislike ; but brandy toddy I love 
dearly, and have such an appetite for it at times, that were a glass of it 
prepared for me when my appetite craves it, I fear it would be almost 
impossible for me to refuse it. My craving fit at that time was strong 
upon me, but his mint sling relieved it ; and, seeing through his kna- 
very, I left him with indignation, and a request never to ask me to 
drink again, unless he wished to insult me. On my way home, I re- 
flected on the conduct of many towards me, and was astonished to see 
the many snares that have been set for my destruction. Even some of 
the store-keepers have tried to get me to taste their liquors and pass 
my opinion upon them, pretending not to know that I was a Washingto- 
nian. And really, I believe that they are so determined to overcome me 
with their villainy, that the best thing we can do is to move away: for 
they have overcome several good, strong-minded men, and I fear that 
by some means or other they will overcome me too. And O 1 dearest 
Ellen, I had rather die and leave you and poor Emma a widow and or- 
phan, than to be a drunken husband and father to you again.” As he 
spoke the last words, his head fell into his hands, and his whole frame 
shook with anguish. 

“ O ! my dear,” said his wife, soothingly, “ do not let these things af- 
fect you so deeply. Trust in God, and hope for the best, and all will 
be well.” 

‘‘O! Ellen,” he said, in a sorrowful tone, “from what source can I 
draw the hope of living a sober man, while the accursed poison is per- 
mitted to deluge the land, and so many devils are urging me to drink it. 
And had it not been for the affection I have for you and our dear kind- 
hearted girl, I should have been in a drunkard’s grave, long, long ago. 
O ! let them kill me with daggers, with swords, with guns or clubs ; 
nay, let them sting me to death with adders and scorpions, or drown me 
in melted iron, rather than make me a drunkard again, to abuse you 
and my dear only daughter.” At the close of this pathetic exclamation, 
he hid his distorted face in his wife’s lap, and trembled as though he 
felt the forebodings of some approaching storm, that would soon sink 
them deep in the sea of trouble. His wife let her affectionate arms fall 
around him, and rested her head on his shoulders, and they both sought 
in tearful silence to calm their perturbed minds. 


88 


EMMA MORTON. 


Mrs. Morton, as women generally are, was the first to offer consola- 
tion. She raised her head and said : 

“ O ! my dear Thomas, let us not be so silly as to be so much afflicted 
by imaginary difficulties, but let us do the best we can, and strive to be 
content. Remember, as the world is, we are born to trouble. The 
heritage of man in time, do as he may, is full of trouble; in eternity, if 
he acts right on earth, it is full of joy. I know you love me, and that you 
would not do anything willfully to grieve me ; and therefore, should you 
fall again into your evil habits, although your fall would be worse to me 
than death, yet, situated as I see you are, in the midst of liquor, and 
enemies on either hand, pressing you to drink it, my censure will be 
awarded to those who keep the liquor around you and urge you to drink, 
and not to you.” 

‘‘ Dearest and best of women,” said her husband, with a smiling face, 
‘^your kind heart is full of comfort, and you pour it out as the heav- 
ens dropped manna, just when and where it is needed, and with thanks 
I now receive it; and I hope ever to act worthy of your confidence and 
affection. But come, I now think we had better retire to rest.” And 
with an embrace that hearts which love know how to appreciate, their 
conversation closed. 

The next morning, after the usual affectionate interview, around the 
fireside and at the breakfast table, Mr. Morton went to town, and Em- 
ma and her mother, after arranging the household affairs in the best style 
sat down to work. Emma’s anxiety about her father, led her at once 
to commence a conversation, and she said : 

“O! dear mother, I am very anxious to know what was the matter 
with father last night. Indeed, I could not sleep for thinking about him. 
Have you learned what was the cause of his being so thoughtful ? ” 

I have, my dear,” replied her mother, with a suspiration ; and then 
she related all that her husband had told her the night before, and added: 
‘‘Em, we must try to be prepared for the worst ; for I do fear, although 
I hope my fears will not be realized, that some of his enemies will 
lead him estray.” 

“Well, mother,” said Emma, “I do think it very strange that our 
Government does not drive liquor away from us, when it is so plain that 
it is a dangerous thing among us.” 

“Well, I think so too, my dear,” said Mrs. Morton; “but, our head 
men say that it is not a subject for legislation, and that the only way to 
get rid of it, is to persuade men not to use it.” 

“But, mother,” said Emma, “how can that ever be done? For as 
fast as the Temperance men persuade men not to drink, the drink- 


EMMA MORTON. 


89 


ing party persuade them right back again, just as they are now 
trying to with father, and really I think our Government had better 
have no power at all, if it has not power to protect our fathers and 
friends from the indescribable evils of alcohol ; and then it would not be 
protected by law, and every body could destroy it wherever they saw it, 
just as we do the poisonous snakes that infest our farms,” 

“ That state of things, my dear, would throw us into a state of nature 
again,” said her mother. 

“Well, mother,” said Emma, “ I would rather live in a state of na- 
ture than in a state of drunkenness. But I do not believe there is any 
necessity for either; for I read in the Declaration of Independence, 
that Governments were formed among men, to protect them from inju- 
ries, and 1 am sure that nothing on earth injures men so much as al- 
cohol. Why, mother ! ” she exclaimed with vehemence, “ I read the 
other day that there are thirty thousand a year killed by alcohol in the 
United States. And, I am sure if our Government has no power to save 
the lives of thirty thousand a year, it is no use to have a Government. 
But I’ll get some law books and read for myself ; and that’s just what 
every body else ought to do, and not believe every thing that is told us 
about the powers of our Government, because those who tell us such 
strange stories about it may be interested in some way in the profits of 
alcohol, and they will tell us any thing.” 

“ Well, Em,” said her mother with a smile, “ I believe you’ll be a 
Temperance lecturer before long.” 

“If I was a man, mother,” replied Emma, “ I think I should be one. 
But as I am, a poor weak woman, my sphere of lecturing will be con- 
fined to the family circle, and there I believe I can do much good. For, 
I am of the opinion that if all the women were Temperance women, it 
would not be long before all the men would be Temperance men ; and, 
therefore, perhaps, a female lecturer around the fireside, may do as much 
good as a male lecturer in the public assembly. For women, like men, 
are governed by interest ; and when they see their husbands, fathers, 
and brothers, making money by trading in alcohol, they expect to obtain 
many pretty things from their profits, and, of course, they will be in 
favor of their business, until they are convinced of its impropriety.” 

“ Well, Em, I must say that many of your ideas are new to me, but 
they seem to be founded on truth, and good sense. But I must leave 
you now, and go see how Mary is preparing dinner,” said Mrs. Morton, 
and withdrew. 

Many thoughts flew through Emma’s mind, respecting the law. She 
wished to understand by what sort of fiction it was that Governments, 


90 


EMMA MORTON. 


formed for the protection of the people, had no power to protect us from 
the evils of alcohol — a thing that injured mankind more than everything 
else on earth all put together. In her reverie, she took up a newspa- 
per, and while casting her eyes carelessly over its columns, she saw 
“ Kent’s Commentaries on the Laws of the United States,” advertised for 
sale; and she repeated to herself : “Kent’s Commentaries on the Laws 
of the United States? That must be the very work I want, and I’ll ask 
father to get it for me.” She then laid down the paper, and took her lit- 
tle Testament and walked to a beautiful grove in the meadow near the 
roadside, w^hich completely hid her from the view of travelers. There 
she read and meditated for an hour or two and then returned. 

Late in the afternoon Mr. Morton came home in a state of agitation. 
Emma and her mother met him with kindness, and looked inquiringly at 
him. 

“ I will not keep you in suspense, my dears” said he, “ about my agi- 
tation, but I will tell you the cause of it in a few words. As I was com- 
ing past O’Brien’s, a fellow said, “ there he goes, now,” and then called 
me. I stopped, and some seven or eight unfortunate deluded rum-suck- 
ers surrounded me, and endeavored to persuade me to light and take a 
drink with them, and on my positive refusal, they threatened to pour it 
down my throat by force ; one took hold of my bridle and the others 
were preparing to unhorse me, but I gave Charley a pretty, hard cut with 
my whip, and with a sudden bound he threw the fellow that held the 
bridle on the ground and brought me from their hellish designs. They 
then threw stones at me, and cursed me for every thing they could think 
of, until I got out of reach of hearing them.” 

“ O ! I do declare that is too bad,” said Emma. 

“ Well it is, indeed,” said her mother; “and I really believe, my 
dear, that we had better move from the place at once.” 

“ No, my dear,” said Morton, “ that will not do. I deem it a duty 
every good citizen owes to society, to maintain his rights at all times 
against brute force. Now, I have a right to live here a sober man, and 
if, in support of this right, I should lose my life, I should do no more 
than my duty. For, if I were to leave this place to gratify the drunk- 
ards that surround me, I do not know where to find a place that is not 
defiled by drunkenness. A man who wishes to live a sober life has 
no place of safety on God’s earth ; no, not even in this boasted land 
of liberty. His only place of safety from alcohol is in the cold dark 
f grave.” 

“ Indeed,” said Mrs. Morton, “ we are surrounded with appalling cir- 
cumstances, and I cannot say what is best to do.” 


EMMA MORTON. 


91 


“ Well, I know what I would do,” said Emma. 

“ And what is that, Em ? ” inquired her father, smiling. 

“ Why, I would stand my ground, and never have any thing to do or 
say with any man who was in favor of alcohol : for I believe, that eve- 
ry hand that touches or receives the profits of the rum-bottle, is raised 
in deadly hatred against all the friends of Temperance. But come, fath- 
er, supper is ready, and doubtless you need it.” While they were at 
supper, Emma preferred her request for Kent’s Commentaries. 

“ Why, what under the sun, Em, do you want with a law-work,” said 
her father, with surprise. 

“ Why father, I have a curiosity to know something about the laws of 
my country ; and I think every woman should know something about 
them, for they govern women as well as men.” 

“ That is very true, my dear ; but legal knowledge is not considered a 
part of female education, you know,” said her father. 

“ I know that, father,” said Emma; “but still it seems to me that 
women ought to know the rules by which they are to be governed as 
well as men. If they do not, how can they keep within their bounds ? ” 

“ Well, that’s very good logic, Em,” said her father; “and I will fur- 
nish you with a copy when I go to town again.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

EMMA BEATS HER FATHER IN SHOOTING PLAN OF THE LIBERALS TO 

GET MORTON DRUNK, 

A few days after, her father brought the books, and one of Colt’s 
revolvers, and laid them on the table. 

“ There, Em,” he said, jocosely, “ here are the laws and a weapon to 
defend.” 

Emma looked at them as they lay, for a few moments, and then took 
the pistol up and said : 

“ Why, father, what is this ? ” 

“ It’s a six barreled pistol, Em,” said her father. 

She turned it round, and examined every part of it closely, and then 
said : 


92 


EMMA MOKTON. 


“ Well, really, I should like to see how you shoot with it.” 

Her father then explained to her all its principles of action, and ended 
by saying : 

“ After dinner, Em, we’ll try it at a mark, and see how it will shoot.” 

She then examined the books, and with expressions of gratitude for 
her father’s kindness, put them in the book-case. 

After dinner, Mr. Morton loaded all the barrels of the pistol, and 
said : 

“ Come, Em, I have the pistol ready for shooting 5 let’s go and try it.” 

They went a short distance from the house, and her father set up a 
mark and discharged all the barrels in quick succession at it, while Em- 
ma stood with deep interest watching every movement until the last 
was discharged, and then ran to the mark to see the effect. 

Four balls,” said her father, ‘‘ would each have killed a man.” 

Emma turned pale and trembled like a leaf in a breeze. 

Why, what is the matter, Em ? are you scared ? I thought you 
were more of a heroine,” said her father, with a laugh. 

“I am not scared, father,” she replied ; “but I was thinking what a 
horrid act it must be, to pierce a human heart with one of these messen- 
gers of death.” 

“ The cause that sometimes impels the act, my dear, is often more 
horrid than the act itself ; and, therefore, it is to prevent these causes 
that many men carry such weapons as this,” said her father. 

He then fired several rounds , and while he was doing so, like a sol- 
dier in battle, Emma became accustomed to the crack of the pistol and 
supposed effect of the ball, and at last requested her father to let her try 
a round. 

“ Why, Em,” he said, “ if you were to shoot off a pistol, the young 
gentlemen would all be afraid of you, and call you an Amazonian.” 

“Why, father,” she said, “I do not see any harm in doing so, and 
besides you know you are not bound to tell any body, and if you do not, 
I will not, and then the young men will not know it.” 

Her father laughed, and for the sake of a little sport, and to gratify 
his daughter, he loaded all the barrels and gave her the pistol, and 
showed her how to hold it and pull the trigger. She raised it up to the 
mark and took aim, and then lowered her hand, and rested. Again she 
raised it, and discharged all the barrels as her father had done ; and to 
his surprise, although her hand trembled, she put three balls in the tar- 
get, and one of them closer to the centre than either of his own. 

“ Why, Em, you teasing tom-boy, you have beat me,” said her father. 

“Well, I did the best I could, father,” said Emma. “I thought I 


EMMA MORTON. 


93 


could beat you, and now Pve done so, I’ll laugh at you, and run and 
tell mother so, that she may laugh at you too.” She ran towards the 
house laughing and clapping her hands for joy, and bolted into the pi- 
azza where her mother met her. 

O ! mother,” — 

“ Hush, my daughter,” said her mother, “ Mr. Holland is in the par- 
lor,” Emma turned pale, and said : 

“O ! mother, let me go up stairs, for I have declared I never would 
see him again if I could avoid him.” 

“ Well, go,” said her mother; “but if you are called, you must come 
down again immediately.” 

Mr. Morton walked into the parlor where Holland was sitting. He 
rose, and with expressions of the warmest friendship took Mr. Morton’s 
extended hand, and apologized for his long absence. After interchang- 
ing ideas for some time, he said: 

“ I learn that there has been a great change in favor of Temperance 
during my absence, and I am really gratified by the intelligence ; for al- 
though my father keeps a distillery, there is no individual on earth that 
has a greater desire for the triumph of the Temperance cause than I have. 
And I must add, that my gratification is increased by hearing that your 
efforts in the good cause have been wonderfully successful, and I hope 
you will not be weary in well doing.” 

“ Well, Mr. Holland,” said Morton, “ I cannot say that I have grown 
weary; but I believe I have made so many enemies by my humble efforts, 
that I am afraid I shall be compelled to be less active than I have been 
heretofore.” 

“ O, you are mistaken, sir,” said Holland ; “ you have made no enemies 
at all, by your efforts. Those who drink know that it would be better 
for them if they were like yourself, and they only tease you a little some- 
times through friendship ; and I think you can be more useful by mixing 
with them occasionally in friendly conversation, than you can by keeping 
yourself at home. Your abstemious habits will have a good effect upon 
them.” 

“ That may be all very true,” said Morton. 

“ It is as true as the gospel, sir,” replied Holland. 

And after working on Morton in this manner, for some hours, and 
finding that Emma was not to be seen, he took his leave in the most 
friendly manner, with the expression of a hope of having another inter- 
view in a short time. 

“ Well,” said Morton to his wife, after Holland had gone, “ he is a 
very friendly sort of a man ; but still I should not like to have him for 


94 


EMMA MORTON. 


son-in-law, which I believe is what he desires ; and I think Em has 
acted judiciously in discountenancing his suit.’^ 

“ And I am of your opinion,” said his wife ; and then she called Em- 
ma down stairs. 

Emma came, but her merry mood had been all destroyed by Holland’s 
visit, and her joke on her father lost its effect. 

As Holland returned, he stopped at O’Brien’s and said: “ Well^ 
O’Brien, how have you succeeded with Morton ? ” 

“ I have not succeeded at all,” said O’Brien ; “ I think he’s a little the 
hardest case to manage I ever saw, and I believe we had as well give him 
up. And, indeed, I must say, Mr. Holland, I do not like to persuade him 
any more to drink, for it seems to be a pity to ruin such a nice wife and 
daughter as he has ; they are so kind and obliging to all their poor neigh- 
bors. And I don’t think I’ll have any thing more to do in the matter.” 

“ O, nonsense! O’Brien,” said Holland: “we do not intend to ruin 
anybody ; we only want to get Morton drunk once, and then we can let 
him alone, you know, and that’s not such a killing matter.” 

“ Well, 1 do not believe there is a man in Maine, except Bill Roper, that 
can ever get Morton drunk ; and I believe he can, for I never knew him 
to fail in a single instance. And although I feel sorry that Morton’s 
family should be injured, yet if we don’t get Roper back soon, or some 
one of equal tact, to oppose these Temperance fanatics, the liquor trade 
will not be worth a cent. I am now doing next thing to nothing in it.” 

“Why,” said Holland, “ what’s Jarvis and the rest of the boys about, 
here ? Perhaps you do not treat enough, and they have grown cold. But 
if you have such confidence in Roper’s tact, we must get him back here ; 
do you know where he is ? Why, stop, I think I saw the fellow a couple 
of weeks since, down in our town. He’s the tall, talkative, genteel 
looking fellow, with one tooth out, that I saw here some two years since, 
is he not ? ” 

“ The same,” replied O’Brien, “ and I wish he was here again ; I 
would board him for nothing, as I did for more than two years before he 
went away, just for his company, and the increase of business he could 
bring to my house. And I think our club ought, at this time, to make 
up a little compensation for him, and get him back as soon as possible.” 

“ Well, if that will bring him,” said Holland, “ I’ll do my part towards 
it, and General Jarvis and the rest, I know, will do theirs. Pll see them 
this evening on the subject, and I believe we can get him back here in 
less than two weeks. How are you off for liquor ? ” 

“I am not very full now,” replied O’Brien. 


EMMA MORTON. 


95 


“Well, I will send you up a half dozen barrels as soon as I get 
home,” said Holland; “and now, my dear old friend, I bid you good- 
bye.” 

“Good-bye,” said O’Brien; and after shaking hands like two twin 
brothers, Holland returned to town. ^ 

A few weeks after this time, on his electioneering tour. General Jar- 
vis paid O’Brien a visit. 

“Well, my old friend,” said he, as he entered the door with a smiling 
face, “how are you this bright morning?” 

“ Why, General,” said O’Brien, “my health is good, and my spirits a 
good deal better. Our old friend Roper has returned, and I now hope to 
have better times.” 

“Well, O’Brien,” said Jarvis, “ I am really glad he’s come ; and now 
I hope that you will set him on Morton at once, for I believe that if he is 
not stopped in his fanatical course, he’ll ruin my election. I am now go- 
ing round to arouse my friends to action ; and I hope, O’Brien, that you 
will put forth a little extra effort in this, my time of need, and you know 
I will always help you in return. I want you to let the liquor flow free- 
ly, for I believe that I can buy up more votes with a barrel of liquor, than 
I can with a barrel of gold.” 

“ O, General, they shall not beat you on account of a lack of efibrt on 
my part ; although I must say that my conscience upbraids me a little 
sometimes, when I see the wreck of character, of intellect, and of happi- 
ness, that I have made in the community.” 

“ O, d — n conscience I ” replied the General ; “it’s a thing only fit for 
old women. But I’m in a hurry ; come, let’s take a sling together, and 
then I’ll be off.” 

“ Well, agreed,” said O’Brien ; and they drank it off. 

“Ah, that’s the stuff,” said Jarvis ; and after smacking his lips togeth- 
er, added, “ now, my old friend, look out for us both.” 

“ O, never fear me,” said O’Brien, as his friend rode away ; “ I’m wide 
awake.” 

The General then turned back : “ O,” said he, “ there is one thing I 
forgot. I wish you to tell Roper that if he should be a little in need, to 
call on me. He’ll know what I mean. Good bye.” 

“ Good bye. General, I’ll tell him,” said O’Brien. 

On the night after Jarvis returned from his tour, the liberals had a 
meeting at O’Brien’s, composed of Jarvis, Puff, Leach, Roper, and a few 
other leaders, in their work of death ; and after discussing and adopting 
various plans to secure the election of their candidates, they took into 
consideration the noble deed of reducing Mr. Morton to the drunkard’s 


96 


EMMA MOKTON. 


grade. Many and various were the plans proposed, .but all were objec- 
tionable. At last Jarvis said : 

“ Why, Billy, what makes you so silent, to-night? I would like to hear 
what would be your plan for conquering this Hercules in the Temperance 
cause. Come, let us hear from you.” 

‘‘ Well, General,” said Roper, “Mr. Holland bantered me for a bet that 
I could not come up here and get Morton drunk, and I took him up with- 
out knowing who Morton was, dr anything about his family , and I now 
must say, that since I have learned the character of the man, and of those 
dependent upon him, I have some conscientious scruples about the matter 5 
and I believe I had rather lose the fifty dollars I bet Holland, than ruin so 
nice a family.” 

When Roper closed, they all, like the devils in Pandemonium, laughed 
in scorn and derision at his tender heart, and called him “ Coward ! cow- 
ard ! ” 

“ No ! no ! no ! ” said Jarvis ; “I do not believe Roper is a coward, 
either ; but I believe he thinks Morton is too tough for him, that’s all,” 

“ I think no such thing,” said Roper; “ for I have no more doubt of 
fetching him flat on his back on election day, than I have of breathing 
while I have life. But, for the sake of his family, I would rather not do 
it.” 

“ Why, Roper,” said Jarvis, “ it will be only a little fun to have 
him drunk once ; and then you can let him alone, you know, and he need 
not drink any more.” 

“ Well, that is true. General,” said Roper ; “ but that once may be once 
too often.” 

“O, nonsense, man! ” said Jarvis ; “ come, consent to try your gener- 
alship. I want to see how you manage wild colts. Come, give us your 
plan, and let us have some fun.” 

“ Well, then,” said Roper, “ I suppose I must undertake him, and my 
plan is this. As he and I are unacquainted, I think if I were to join 
the Washingtonians, and gain his acquaintance, and then pretend to be 
on his side of politics ; if my after-plans were well backed by two or 
three more of you, I have no doubt of success.” 

They all cried out, “ Good, good, Billy ; good ! ” 

“ Well, now,” said Jarvis, “ who but Billy could have thought of such 
a plan.” 

“ Ah, I told you that Billy could do the thing,” said O’Brien. 

“ But, Billy,” said Jarvis, “ what are these after-plans you refer to ? ” 

“ O, General,” said Billy, “they are simply these. First, none of you 
must invite Morton to drink any more ; secondly, you must all ridicule 


0 


EMMA MOKTON. 


97 


me when he is present, for being a Temperance man ; thirdly, you must 
keep the smell of brandy continually under his nose when you can.” 

“ Why,” interrupted Jarvis, “I had him here one day, and O’Brien 
made us two good brandy mint slings, and I held them under his nose un- 
til they lost their flavor, and they had no effect upon him at all,” 

“ Ah, General,” said Billy, “ there is where you made the mistake. 
You must never tempt an old toper with mint, and I’ll tell you why; his 
stomach is diseased, and when the craving fit comes on, the smell of mint 
stops his cravings, just like it stops a fit of vomiting.” 

‘‘Well, Billy,” said Doctor Leach, “that’s new doctrine to me; but 
still I believe it perfectly true.” 

The others adopted his remark, and applauded Billy for his wit. 

“ Well, Billy, go on with your plan,” said Jarvis. 

“ You must occasionally ask me to drink, and of course I must re- 
fuse,” said Billy; “but at last I’ll try to get him a little fatigued and 
excited, and then I’ll take him alone into the back room with me, and eat 
some dried codfish and crackers ; and O’Brien must have some brandy in 
some glasses and in some decanters, and if I don’t get him to taste it I 
will never more be called Billy Roper. And if he once takes a taste, 
our work is done ; for I never yet saw a reformed drunkard who did not 
get dead drunk in less than an hour after he took the first taste, if he 
could get the liquor.” 

They all applauded Billy, for his shrewdness, and adopted his plans ; 
and after their usual potations, adjourned. 

The next week Roper was a strong Washingtonian, and an acquain- 
tance of Morton’s. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

EMMA PRACTICES WITH THE PISTOL. 

“Well, thank fortune,” said Morton, as he sat at the supper table, one 
evening, after Roper had joined the Temperance Society, “I now have a 
little rest from the liquor drinkers. They all seem to spend their force 
of ridicule on him. And really I am sorry for the poor fellow. He 
seems to be a clever man, and I believe he will make a good member if he 
can keep his pledge. But I very much fear they will lead him to drink- 
7 — 


98 


EMMA MORTON. 


ing again, as they have already done with Jones, and Brown, and several 
others.” 

“ Indeed, I think it very hard that men now cannot live sober lives 
without being continually teased to drink, and ridiculed because they will 
not,” said Mrs. Morton. “ I am sure the Temperance party may labor 
until the day of Judgment, and do but little good under such circum- 
stances,” she added. 

“ Really,” said Emma, “ I think such conduct ought to be prohibited 
by law.” 

No, Em,” said Morton ; ‘‘ it would be better to remove the liquor, 
and of course when the cause is gone, the effect must cease. But how 
do you like Kent’s Commentaries, Em ? ” 

0,1 am delighted with them,” said Emma. 

“ Well, now, give me some music, Em,” said her father. 

Emma played and sung several pieces, and among them a new song on 
Temperance, that afforded her father much gratification. 

The next morning, as he was leaving for town, Emma called him to 
stop, and said : 

“ Father, you have left your revolver.” 

“ Never mind, Em,” he replied ; “ I believe I shall not have to carry it 
any more,” and then he went off without it. 

‘‘ Well, Em,” said Mrs. Morton, after they had sat down to their 
morning’s work, “ I have been reflecting on Mr. Blackwood’s letters, 
and particularly on the one your father handed to you last night, and they 
really seem strange to me. He seems to love you sincerely, but he nev- 
er gives the least intimation that he intends to make you his wife.” 

Emma blushed, and for a moment or two wms silent , after which she 
said : 

“ I have thought of that, too, mother, and I believe there is some diffi- 
culty in the way, that he wishes to overcome before he proceeds too far ; 
and I have thought he wished to see what success he can have in busi- 
ness before he assumes the responsibilities of a family.” 

“ That is just what I thought, Em,” responded her mother ; and as 
they both agreed in their suppositions, the subject was dismissed. 

In a few minutes more Emma left the room, and Mrs. Morton sat 
alone at her work with her thoughts dwelling on her husband, and daugh- 
ter, and expecting her to return every minute. Presently she heard her 
husband’s pistol discharge its six loads, and looking up tothe place where 
it usually hung, she saw' that it was gone. She went to see if her hus- 
band had returned, and taken it out for trial. But instead of her husband 
she saw Emma standing at the target, and heard her say : 


EMMA MORTON. 


99 


“ Five ! well, five out of six I think is pretty good.” 

“ Em,” said her mother, ‘‘ what in the name of conscience are you 
about ? ” 

“O, mother!” replied Emma, with a smile, “ I am only practicing a lit- 
tle because I think it will be useful some time, perhaps.” 

“ Why, you foolish girl, you’ll kill yourself with your nonsense; come 
in and put the pistol away,” said her mother. 

‘‘ O, mother !” said Emma, imploringly, “just let me load and discharge 
it one time. O, do, dear mother ; I want to see if I can’t put all six balls 
in this target.” 

“ Why, Em,” said her mother, “ you can’t load it right.” 

“ O, yes, I can,” said Emma; “ father showed me how to charge it and 
how to discharge it, and how to hold it, and how to take aim, and how to 
pull the trigger, and I know all about it. O, do let me try, now, won’t 
you, mother ? ” 

“ Well, be very careful, and you may once,” said her mother, with agi'^^ 
tat ion. 

“ Thank you, thank you, dear mother,” said Emma ; “ I’ll be careful, , 
mother:” and in a few moments she had her pistol ready for action. She 
raised and lowered it several times, while her mother, with her fingers in 
her ears, at last said : 

“ Why don’t you shoot, Em? ” 

“ O, mother I I am trying to steady my hand,” she replied ; and then 
raised it again, and in quick succession drove the six bullets into the tar- 
get, and running up to it, exclaimed ; 

“ O mother ! I’ve saved every ball. Here are all six buried deep in the 
board.” 

“ Well, now,” said her mother, “that will do, Em : come, let us go in 
and hereafter I shall never fear robbers if you are about with a revolver 
in your hand. You beat all girls ever I saw before.” 

“Yes, and I beat father, too, you know ; and I think I can now chalu 
lenge him for a shooting match,” said Emma, with a triumphant toss of 
the head, and a child-like, joyous laugh. 


100 


EMMA MORTON. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

MEETING OF THE LIBERALS DOUGHFACE REPENTS ELECTION DAY THE 

CONSPIRACY DISCOVERED BY EMMA THE DISTRESS OF EMMA AND HER 

MOTHER — Howland’s child smothered. 

On the afternoon of the day preceding the election, Mr. Holland paid 
Morton a visit, and after spending an hour or two in the most friendly 
manner, said : 

“ Well, Mr. Morton, I am about to return to town ; but before I go, I 
wish to assure you that your noble efforts in the Temperance cause have 
made for you many warm friends, and among the number I wish you to 
believe that I shall ever be found ready to serve you in any capacity my 
humble abilities will permit.” 

“I feel grateful to you, Mr. Holland, for your friendship, and wish 
you to believe that it is cheerfully reciprocated,” said Morton. And then, 
with a hearty shake of the hand, . Holland withdrew, and at night met the 
liberals at Lovepenny’s, to perfect a plot for Morton’s destruction. He 
was joined there by Jarvis, Leach, Puff, Doughface, Roper, O’Brien, and 
a few other secret leaders of their party. Their business was introduced 
by the usual ceremonies at the bar ; and after adopting measures for ‘ the 
good of the country Billy Roper’s plan for ‘ the good of Morton ’ was 
reviewed, and the persons selected to perform the different parts in the 
fiendish drama. 

‘‘ Well, now,” said Deacon Doughface, ‘‘I must say, gentlemen, that I 
think you have gone too far against Morton, and I really fear that if our 
pastor gets to know that I have attended a meeting where such a horrid 
plan is adopted, although he tells us that there is no harm in partaking of 
the ‘ good things of God,’ and likes a little once in a while himself, not 
even the large amount I contribute to his salary, will save me from his 
displeasure ; and therefore, I should be much pleased if you would mod- 
ify your plan a little.” 

“ No, no, gentlemen,” replied Mr. Holland ; ‘‘ the least modification 
will spoil it. We must let it stand as it is.” And with him the other 
members agreed ; and after ceremonies at the bar again, they adjourned, 
all well satisfied with their arrangements, except Doughface. He felt 
the sting of an aroused indignant conscience so deep in his soul, that 
all the futile excuses he could draw either from his pastor’s worse than 
useless sermon, or from his own judgment, were not powerful enough to 
reach it. 


EMMA MOKTON. 


101 


“ Well,” said he to himself, as he went home, “ this is really too 
bad : A deacon of the church, engaged with drunkards in forming plans 
to ruin a sober man by liquor. Why, what an accursed wretch I have 
become. I see now how it is : all who have not declared themselves 
opposed to drinking are aiding its practice. There is no mediety here. 
‘ He that is not for me is against me,’ said my blessed Saviour, and so 
may the Temperance cause say. Now, I think that our pastor has led 
me astray, and I must have a talk ’with him on the subject. But poor 
Morton and his sweet family — they must be saved ; but how can I do it? 
I’ll ride out to see him early in the morning, and try to put him on his 
guard.” 

When morning came, he found himself too unwell to ride, and wrote 
as follows : 

Bear Sir : — Be on your guard ; a plot is formed to make you drunk 
this day ; and. your only place of safety is at home, in your own house. 

Your Friend. 

To Mr. T. J. Morton. 

This he sealed, and sent by a special messenger to Morton, in time to 
find him at home. As he was about to pass O’Brien’s, Roper saw and 
hailed him. 

‘‘ Halloo ! Tom, what makes you in such a hurry, this morning ? ” 

“ Why,” said Tom, “I have a letter for Mr. Morton, and I was or- 
dered to deliver it as soon as possible.” 

“ Well, give it to me ; I’ll see him soon and give it to him,” said Ro- 
per, 

“No, I must hand it to him myself,” said Tom. 

Roper immediately suspected that the letter related to the proceedings 
of the previous night, and adopted his plan to prevent Morton from get- 
ting it until evening. 

“ Well, stop Tom,” said he, “and get your bitters — it’s time you had 
them.” 

“ Well, it won’t take long, and I believe I will,” said Tom. 

“ O’Brien,” said Roper, “mix Tom a good glass of bitters,” and then 
turning to Holland, he said in a low voice : “You must haste to Morton, 
and take him out of the way of this fellow, and bring him down here by 
the back way, so that he’ll not get the letter until night.” 

“ I understand,” said Holland, and turned off. Roper detained Tom 
until he saw Holland and Morton cross the road, and then let him go on 
and deliver the letter, and pass back to town, without Morton knowing 
anything about it. 


102 


EMMA MOKTON. 


Morton deeply engaged in the election, and not having been pestered 
for some time by the tipplers, the thought of any impending danger never 
entered his mind. 

“I do wonder, Em,” said Mrs. Morton, ‘‘what is the import of this 
letter. I really have a great mind to open it ; though I think your fa- 
ther would not like me to do so.” 

“ Well, mother, I cannot give any advice about it, said Emma; “you 
know father better than I do, and I leave you to act according to your 
own judgment respecting it ; and I believe I’ll take a little walk this 
fine morning. I think it will give buoyancy to my spirits.” And then 
taking up her little Testament she wandered down to the grove in the 
meadow, near the road-side, where she had sat often before, unseen; 
She had not been there long, before she heard Holland say : 

“ Good morning, Mr. Morgan,” — and then the following conversation: 

“Good morning, Mr. Holland,” replied Morgan; but he added: — 
“ Are you all prepared for Morton ? ” 

“I tell you we are; and if he escapes this time, he’s more than hu- 
man, that’s all,” responded Holland. 

Emma was bewildered at what they said, and sat breathless, while 
Holland related their whole plan of operation as formed by Roper, to 
get her father drunk. She then bounded to her feet and run down a 
little valley, and hastened to her mother as fast of she could. On en- 
tering the house, breathless, she burst into tears, and fell on the floor. 
Her mother knelt by her side, and said : 

“ O ! my dear daughter, what is the matter ? O ! what is the matter?” 

As Emma caught her breath, she said : “ Father, O ! save father. 

He’s in the hands of murderers, assassins, fiends; O ! save, save my dear 
father.” 

Her mother alarmed and in tears, said: “O ! Em, tell me quick, what 
is the matter ? ” 

“ O ! mother,” said Emma, “ from what I have just heard that vil- 
lain Holland say, I believe father is lost forever, unless you can get him 
home immediately.” 

“Holland,” said her mother; “why, he is your father’s best friend.” 

“No, mother,” said Emma, “he is father’s worst enemy;” and hav- 
ing now recovered herself, she sat up and related all she had heard pass 
between Holland and Morgan. Her mother rang the bell, and Mary 
entered. 

“O! Mary,” she said, “run and call Daniel to me as quick as you 
can.” Daniel was there in a few moments. 

“ O ! Daniel, my good fellow, I want you to mount one of the best 


EMMA MORTON. 


103 


horses, and go and bring Mr. Morton home instantly. Tell him if he 
wants to see me alive not to delay a minute. Fly Daniel and find him.” 

Daniel, in good earnest, was soon flying down the road, as fast as his 
horse could carry him. But one of the guards which Roper had placed 
to watch the movements from Morton’s house, saw him coming, and 
gave the signal ; and while Roper kept Morton busy at the polls, the 
guard informed Daniel that it was not long since he went towards town, 
and that if he hurried, he would overtake him. This information and 
advice induced him to hurry as fast as he could. 

‘‘ Now, Holland,” said Roper, “you must take measures to get Daniel 
drunk, and keep' him so, until morning.” 

“I understand,” said Holland; and he followed Daniel to town im- 
mediately, and in an hour after had him past walking or talking. 

After Daniel started, Mrs. Morton thought of the letter, and again 
taking it in her hand, said : “ Now, Em, I’ll open this letter, for I be- 
lieve that it relates to what you have heard.” 

“Yes, mother,” said Emma, “open it, by all means; for I do not 
think father will be offended at us for doing so, when we tell him that 
we did it for'his benefit.” Mrs. Morton then read it aloud. 

“ O ! my merciful Father,” she exclaimed, “ save my dear husband 
from this foul conspiracy. O ! Em, I hoped that you might be mistaken 
in what you heard ; but now my hopes are gone, and this friend says 
his only place of safety is at home.” 

“ O ! mother,” said Emma, “ let us go after him ourselves, for I fear 
they will keep him out of the way of the messenger ? ” 

“ No, my dear, that will not do. But I will send another of the 
hands after him immediately.” 

James was then soon dispatched, whose fate was like Daniel’s ; and 
after waiting until their dinner hour had passed, hoping that dinner 
would bring Mr, Morton home, Mrs. Morton sent John after him ; but 
he shared a similar fate of Daniel and James, In fear and trembling, 
the affectionate wife and daughter walked the floor and looked out for 
the object of their solicitude, with all the awful forebodings preying up- 
on their minds which a situation like theirs was calculated to inspire. 
O ! who can imagine what they suffered. The pangs of death would 
have been pleasure in comparison with their afflictions. And yet, how 
regardless of this were Morton’s foes ! O I alcohol, what a degrading 
thing thou art! While, in worse than the agonies of death, they hear a 
rap at the door, and with fleetest steps they open it, and a little ragged 
girl cries out: 

“0, Mrs. Morton, run to my mamma. She’s fallen on our dear little 


104 


EMMA MORTON. 


baby ; and I can’t get her up, and I believe she’ll mash it to death. O ! 
run, with me, and help me to get her off of it.” 

This added sorrow to sorrow, but the kind hearted Mrs. Morton, 
complied, and as she said, “ O ! my dear Em, do the best you can, 
and trust in God,” she left the door and followed the little girl 
to her miserable abode ; and to her utter consternation, found the 
mother of the babe, lying dead drunk upon it, with her breast 
downwards, and her infant still hold of it as when nursing, but 
smothered to death; and, in the back yard lay its father, as drunk 
as its mother. And on inquiry it was found that Jarvis had treat- 
ed the father, and given him a bottle of liquor to take home for the 
sake of getting his vote, and that the father and mother both got drunk 
on the liquor ; and, while the mother was nursing the child, she fell on 
it, and smothered it in the position Mrs. Morton found her. The death 
of Howland’s child was soon made known ; and several of the neigh- 
bors came in. And, under Mrs. Morton’s severe trials she deemed it 
prudent to return home. She found Emma some little calmed, arid said : 

O ! my daughter, our troubles are great ; but still God will take 
care of us.” 

“O! mother,” said Emma, “we have done all we can; and I still 
hope that one of the men will find father, and bring him home safely.” 

“ Well, I hope so, too, Em,” said mother ; “ and all we can now do, 
my dear, is to wait in hope for your father’s return. O ! my God, have 
mercy upon us.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE PLAN OF THE CONSPIRATORS SUCCESSFUL DEATH OF MRS. MOR- 
TON REPENTANCE OF ROPER AND o’bRIEN. 

We must now trace the steps of Mr. Morton through the day. In 
the morning he rose cheerful, and with happiness took his break- 
fast with his wife and daughter ; and was just ready to go out when 
Holland called for him. He however thought it somewhat strange 
that he should call so soon; but on his saying, “I wish to go round 
back here, to look at a horse I think of purchasing,” it all seemed 
right, and he went without the least hesitation. And after looking 


EMMA MOKTON. 


105 


at a horse that Holland showed him, and passing their opinions up- 
on it, they went to the polls, which were opened in O’Brien’s tav- 
ern. There he met with Roper and others ; and became active in 
electioneering, and watching the voters to see that no illegal votes were 
received. Roper and his band were all the time seeking an opportunity 
to accomplish their designs upon him. But Morton had several times so 
decidedly refused to drink, that even Roper began to express some doubt 
of their success. At last he prevailed on Morton to take a little walk 
with him ; and when they returned, about an hour before sunset, he 
said, in a low voice : 

“Mr. Morton, walk back with me, and let’s have a snack.” 

“ Well, I’ve no objections,” said Morton ; for that walk has given me 
an appetite.” 

Everything was arranged according to the plan ; and after eating a 
cracker or two and some codfish, Roper said : 

“ Why, I feel very weak and somewhat sickish.” Then looking at 
Morton, he continued : 

“ And you look very pale, Mr. Morton. Suppose we were to take a 
little of this brandy.” 

“ O ! ” said Morton, I don’t think it w'ould do us any good ; and be- 
sides, you know, we would break our pledge.” 

This reply of Morton’s greatly encouraged Roper 5 and giving a 
cringe, as though he was cramped, said : 

“ Well, I believe I shall have to take a little, anyhow, and I don’t 
think I shall hurt anybody by so doing, as there is no one here but you, 
and you know very well how to govern yourself.” 

He then took up the decanter, and pouring some in his glass, spilled a 
little on Morton’s cracker, as by accident. Morton without noticing it, 
took it up, and got the taste of the brandy in his mouth, while Roper 
pretended not to know it. And a little while after, he drank his meJ- 
iVme, he said : 

“ Morton, I do believe you had better take a little of this brandy ; for 
it has done me a great deal of good.” 

Morton’s craving fit by this time was strong upon him, and he said : 

“ You are a Temperance man as well as I am, and I believe I’ll follow 
your example, if you will pour me out a little in this glass.” 

Roper was pleased to have the opportunity, and gave him a good 
charge, saying : 

“ I would not take much, sir.” 

“ O ! ” said Morton, “ that’s too much, I’m afraid my head will not 
stand it. 


106 


EMMA MORTON. 


“ O ! man,’^ said Roper, ‘‘ this is none of your poisonous stuff that 
makes a man drunk if he only looks at it. This is the^ pure, good bran- 
dy, that don’t fly into a fellow’s head, but it stays in his body, and does 
him good, when he is languid like you and I. You need not fear it, 
sir.” 

Morton tasted it, and said : 

“ Well, I believe it is as you say, Roper,” and then drank it down 
with a quivering lip and a trembling hand, and after setting down the 
glass, he said: 

O ! Roper, I wish I had not drank it, for the thoughts of what I 
have done fill my mind with the most awful feelings, and I dread its ef- 
fects. O! I’m a fallen man, and my dear family is ruined! And 
throwing himself on a chair, he sat with his face towards the floor and 
sighed deeply. 

‘‘ Come, come,” said Roper, “ this is beneath a brave, noble hearted 
man, like yourself. Arouse and be a man.” 

By this time, the brandy had begun to make him brave and rich, and 
he sprang up as bold as a lion, and said ; 

“ Aye, Roper, there are few men better off than myself, and I would 
turn my back to no man ; ” and clenching his fists together and holding 
them up added, “ these have made many a man tremble.” 

Roper was filled with joy at the victory he had achieved, and taking 
up the decanter, charged both their glasses and said : 

‘‘ Come, my brave soldier. I’ll give you a toast,” and they both took 
up their glasses. 

Come,” said Roper, here’s success to our friends, and death to our 
enemies.” 

‘‘ Good,” said Morton ; and after tipping their glasses together, they 
drank their contents.” 

“ Now, my good friend,” said Roper, “I think we’ve done a good 
day’s work. I believe we have elected all our candidates, and I have no 
doubt that they will make better times for us.” 

“ Yes,” replied Morton, ‘‘ they are the best men in the State. Huzza 
for old Maine.” 

“ Huzza for General Jarvis,” cried Roper.” 

Why, stop, Roper,” said Morton, stepping up to him, hiccupping as 
he did so ; “ he’s not our man, is he ? ” 

“ O ! yes, he is,” said Roper, “ and the best man in the world too, and 
the greatest friend you and I have. Come, let’s give him three cheers,” 
and then they both cried out, “ Huzza for General Jarvis,” three times. 
After that they walked into into the bar-room where they met Jarvis, 


EMMA MORTON. 


107 


Holland, and their associates, laughing and rejoicing like the demons of 
darkness, when they have just dragged down an immortal soul into their 
horrid cells. Holland took Morton by the hand, and said : 

“ Why, my dear friend, lam glad to take you thus,’’ and drawing their 
breasts together, added : “I love you, Morton, better than any man on 
earth, and I would die to serve you.” 

Morton, hiccupping, replied : 

‘‘And — hiccup — so would I — hiccup — for you — hiccup.” 

“ Well, come,” said Holland, “let’s take a little more brandy.” 

“ Agreed,” said Morton ; “ Come, — hiccup — landlord, 1 — hiccup — 
want to — hiccup — treat my old — hiccup — old friend ; ” and then looking 
round added : “ yes, all the company, — hiccup — they are all my — hic- 
cup — friends. Come — hiccup — gentlemen, drink with — me.” 

“ With all my heart,” they all replied at once. And soon the room 
was filled with a bundle of drunken love. 

“ Well, Roper,” said Jarvis, “ you’ve conquered the mighty Ajax at 
last.” 

“ Why, didn’t I tell you I would,” said Roper ; “and I don’t believe 
there is a reformed toper in the world, that can withstand me, when I 
set my head about it.” 

“ Well, I believe you,” replied Jarvis ; “ and I think we must dub you 
the Achilles of Maine.” 

“ So you’ve brought him to the trough, Roper,” said Holland. 

“ I guess so,” replied Roper. 

“ Come,” said Jarvis, “ Gentlemen, it is my treat now. Come? 
drink,” and taking Morton’s hand added : “ Come, Morton', you and I 
together, for I love you as a brother.” 

“And,” said Morton, “I — hiccup — love you, too, — hiccup — General ; 
and I’ll drink with you, just to show you — hiccup — that I do.” 

This drink made them all pretty boisterous ; but Morton not being ac- 
customed to liquor, was more so- than any of them. All the evil pas- 
sions of his nature were soon aroused, and his loving fit was soon chan- 
ged into a fit for quarrelling and fighting. He became so furious at last 
that O’Brien threatened to turn him out of doors. 

“ G — d d — n you,” said Morton, “ do you threaten to turn a gentle- 
man like me out of doors, you hell-hound ? I’ll show you what you 
want,” and then aimed a blow at O’Brien’s head, but Morgan caught his 
arm. He then turned on him, and they went at it in good earnest. 

“ Stop, stop that,” said O’Brien ; “ I’ll not allow fighting in my 
house.” 

“ Hurra for Morgan,” shouted several. 


108 


EMMA MORTON 


“ Hurra for Morton,” shouted Holland; andlago like, struck him from 
behind, and stretched him on the floor. 

‘‘ Damn me,” said Roper, “ but that’s a mean trick in you, Holland; 
and be Morton what he may, it’s a burning shame to you to treat him so 
when you know he is not himself any longer, and while I am here it 
shall not be done. Let him alone every one of you, or I must have a 
finger in this pie, although I hate fighting as I hate the devil. It’s 
strange that men can’t drink and still be men, and not dogs.” 

Morton was not much hurt, but the liquor had overcome him, and he 
remained speechless on the floor. And Roper’s address reduced the 
others to quietness. He then examined Morton, and found that his si- 
lence was owing to a satiety of liquor ; and by the help of several of 
the company, he packed him away in a back room in a state of perfect 
drunken insensibility, a little after sunset. And like a hero, passing 
under a triumphal arch into a capital city, the victorious Roper passed 
under the door-cap into O’Brien’s bar-room, and received the congratu- 
lations of his noble comrades. Like fiends from the most loathsome cell 
in the infernal regions, they exulted over the awful wreck their demon- 
iacal deeds had made. 

‘^Well, after this,” said Jarvis, when they had gone through with 
their expressions of joy, “ I think we have nothing to fear from these 
Temperance fanatics ; for they may turn as many men to fools as they 
please, and get them to join their Society, and we can bring them to 
their senses again, and draw them right back to our side.” 

“ Well,” said Roper, ‘‘ I tell you I would not undertake such another 
case for any body. And I just undertook Morton to see what I could 
do ; and if it were to do again, I would let him alone, for I am really 
sorry, when I think of his family, to see him as he is. His farm is 
now forfeited, and he’s reduced to poverty, by my mischief.” 

“D — n him, and his family,” said Holland; “it is just what they de- 
serve. They are all proud upstarts, and I am glad of their downfall. 
And now, I believe I will go to town and see how the election has gone 
there.” He then went out, and Roper followed. 

“ I say, Holland,” said Roper, “ I suppose you say I have won the 
fifty dollars, don’t you ? ” 

“ What fifty dollars ?” said Holland. 

“ Why don’t you recollect that you bet me fifty dollars that I could not 
make Morton drunk ? ” 

“ O ! that was only a joke,” said Holland. 

“ Now Holland, that will not do ; you know it was no such thing as a 
joke, and I am determined to have the money,” said Roper. 


EMMA MORTON. 


109 


“ Why man, you must be dreaming,” said Holland ; I am not such a 
fool, and I shall give you nothing, sir,” 

‘‘ Well, d — n your mean soul,” said Roper, “ I will take it out of your 
hide,” and then advanced towards him to make good his threat, but Hol- 
land said : 

“ Roper, if you lay your hands upon me, I will cry murder, and have 
you arrested for an attempt to rob me.” 

Roper paused and said : 

Coward ! villain I dog ! you are too mean to think of ; go, worthless 
wretch, and live until your awful doom overtakes you ; ” and then he re- 
turned to O’Brien’s in silence. 

Most of the company had by this time gone into the election room, and 
Roper sat down in thought. A noise in Morton’s room called him forth. 
Morton rose, and stared at him with a haggard look, and requested some 
brandy. 

“I would not drink any more,” said Roper. 

“ D — n you,” said Morton, “ I want some brandy, and brandy I’ll 
have, at all hazards; ” and then he went to the bar and called for it. 

“Mr. Morton,” said O’Brien, “I now, as a sincere friend, advise 
you to drink no more to-night.” 

“And — and I want none of your advice,” said Morton; “but want 
some of your brandy, and that I wish you to know, I will have.” 

“ Well, you cannot have it here, and I think you had better go home,” 
said O’Brien, sternly. 

“ O ! give me one drink, and then I will,” said Morton, imploringly. 

“ Well,” said O’Brien, “ I will agree to that ;” and he sat down the 
decanter. Morton seized it with avidity, and poured out nearly a tum- 
bler full, and hastily drank it, and then sat down. In a few moments he 
became very quarrelsome, and called for more brandy. 

“ I cannot let you have any more, Mr. Morton,” said O’Brien; “ and 
if you do not behave yourself, I shall have to turn you out of my house.” 

“D — n you,” said Morton, “I’ll make you know who you are talk- 
ing to,” and jumped at him in a rage of madness, but Roper caught him, 
and said : 

“ Come, my good friend, you know I love you, and will see you right- 
ed; come, listen to me.” 

“Well, I will,” said Morton. 

“ I think you had better not drink any more to-night,” said Roper ; 
“ and if you will go, I will walk home with you. Come, wull you go.” 

“ No, d — d if I do, until I whip that d — d rascal,” said Morton, and 
again stepped towards O’Brien, who met him and pushed him out, with 


110 


EMMA MORTON. 


some violence, and fastened the door. Morton fell on his knee and hurt 
it considerably ; but he soon arose, and beat against the door to get in, 
but O’Brien swore he would not be permitted to enter his house that 
night. Roper went out to him, and after great persuasion prevailed on 
him to take a walk. He became more and more enraged as they walked 
along. 

“Thed — d scoundrel,’’ said he; “ he threw me out, and hurt my 
knee so badly that I can hardly walk. I’ll go home and get my pistol, 
and shoot the hell-hound,” he added, gritting his teeth. % 

“ Well,” said Roper, “here is your house; now. I’ll bid you good- 
night. Go in now, my friend, and lie down.” 

“ I’ll go in,” said Morton ; “ but I’ll not lie down, until I make O’Bri- 
en pay for hurting my knee, d — n his infernal soul.” 

The clock struck nine. “ There, Em, said Mrs. Morton, it is nine 
o’clock, and neither your father or either of the men we sent after him, 
has returned. O ! I fear those villains have intercepted our messengers, 
and made them drunk as well as your father.” 

“ O ! mother, my heart is almost broken ; and I am almost crazed with 
anxiety. O! God, help us,” said Emma, with tears trickling down 
her pale face, and wringing her hands with anguish. 

“Be calm, my dear,” said Mrs. Morton ; “I hope all will be well. I 
will step into the kitchen and see Mary close up, and bring her in for 
the night.” She then stepped out, and Emma hearing the front door 
open and shut, followed by footsteps in the hall, sprung on her feet 
to embrace her father ; but, his haggard and fiendish appearance made 
her pause, and exclaim, “ O ! my father,” as she stood almost petrified 
before him. 

“ ril shoot the d — d rascal,” said he, and staggered against her. 

She was motionless, and again exclaimed, “O! my father ! ” 

“ Get out of my way, God d — n,” said he, and then gave her such a 
violent blow with his fist that she fell senseless to the floor. He then 
snatched down his pistol just as Mrs. Morton and Mary came running 
in, to see what made Emma scream so loud. Seeing her prostrate on 
the floor, and her father staggering round towards her, with the pistol 
in his hand, Mrs. Morton shrieked — 

“ O ! murder ! O ! for God’s sake, don’t shoot her,” and ran towards 
him. 

“Youd — d rascal, keep off,” said he; and as he spoke he sent the 
butt of his pistol, with all his infuriated strength, against her temple, and 
they both fell to the floor together. 

With horror and dismay, Blackwood, who had just reached the house 


EMMA MORTON. 


Ill 


on a visit, when he heard Emma scream, stood over the lifeless wife 
and drunken husband. 

“I wish to God,” he said, “I had arrived a moment sooner. I snatched 
at the pistol as he gave the blow, but I was too far off to reach it; but, 
Mary, where is Emma?” he asked, hastily. Mary could not speak, but 
she pointed her finger to the corner of the room where Emma was ly- 
ing. “ Good heavens ! ” he exclaimed ; “ has he killed them both ? ” 
Casting himself by Emma’s side, and feeling her pulse in motion, he 
said: “O! Mary, she is not dead. Run for a doctor, and call in some 
of the neighbors — haste — fly — quick, my good girl.” He then loosened 
Emma’s dress, as far as prudence would permit, and washed her face 
with water. He next examined Mrs. Morton’s head, and found it badly 
cut, and the skull crushed in. “ My God! ” he said, “ she is killed in- 
deed ; ” and looking at Morton on the floor, snoring in drunkenness, he 
added : “ O I miserable man, what pain and horror await you when 
you wake.” 

Mary soon alarmed the neighborhood, and the house w’as filled with 
inquiring spectators. The doctor pronounced Mrs. Morton dead, and or- 
dered Emma to be taken to her bed chamber to be nursed. The coro- 
ner’s jury rendered a verdict that Mrs. Morton came to her death from 
a blow with the butt of the pistol, given her by Thomas J. Morton; on 
which he was ordered into custody of the proper officer, and taken up in 
his drunken sleep and carried to jail, and the crowd dispersed. Roper 
and O’Brien walked along together, for some time, in profound silence. 
At last, Roper said : 

“ O’Brien, what makes you sigh so heavily ? ” 

“ Why,’’ replied O’Brien, ‘‘ what makes you sigh ? ” 

‘‘ Well, indeed, O’Brien, this day’s work is enough to make the dev- 
ils sigh,” said Roper, 

‘‘ O 1 Roper,*’ said O’Brien, “ I wish I had joined the Washingtoni- 
ans the first night I heard poor Morton lecture, and then I should not 
deem myself a party to this day’s wickedness.” 

“And I wish,” said Roper, “that I had never come and made Mor- 
ton drink. I did it only for fun, and had no idea that it would end so 
horribly. My God, O’Brien 1 what a destructive thing this liquor is ; 
and may God Almighty strike me dead the very moment I ever have 
anything more to do with it, unless it is to destroy it.” 

“ That is good Roper, and here’s my hand upon that pledge,” said 
O’Brien. 

“ Good,” said Roper, and they hurried home. 

O’Brien walked behind his counter, and taking a decanter in each 


112 


EMMA M OH TON. 


hand, sat them on it and said, “ Here, Roper, pour the accursed stuff out 
of doors.” 

What ! do you begin to-night ? ” said Roper. 

“Yes,” replied O’Brien, “ Pll not sleep a wink until every drop of 
it is given to the earth. I hope it will not make that drunk, and cause 
it to commit murder too.” 

“ Well, I don’t know but that it will,” said Roper, with a smile. 
“ But,” he added, “ had you not better consider the loss you are about 
to sustain by what you are doing? ” 

“ No,” replied O’Brien, “I will not consider about it at all. I am de- 
termined, at the risk of all losses and crosses, to have my house cleansed 
before morning, Roper ; and I cannot have it done if I leave this filthy 
stuff in it. And then when my old woman and the children rise and see 
it all gone, the way they’ll rejoice will be the right way, for they hate 
it, because 1 sometimes get drunk and abuse them ; and, it’s so deceptive, 
if I leave it alone until morning, I know not but that it may make me 
kill my dear wife, like poor Morton has killed his.” 

“ Come, help me ; and when we get it all out of the bar, we will go 
into the cellar and roll the barrels up and knock out their heads, and let 
their contents run to the devil, where they belong.” He and Roper put 
this determination into practice in short time, and then went to bed in 
hope of leading better lives. 


CHAPTER XVL 

MORTON IN PRISON BLACKWOOd’s GRIEF FOR EMMA SHE RECOVERS, 

AND PREPARES TO VISIT HER FATHER IN PRISON. 

The appalling tidings of Morton’s conduct soon reached the ears of Mr. 
Moore. He was in the act of closing his house when one of his neigh- 
bors on passing home said : 

“ Well, Mr. Moore, our election has been attended with lamentable 
circumstances.” 

“ Why, I don’t know, what are they ?” inquired Mr. Moore. 

“ Why, I thought you had heard of Morton’s conduct. He went home 




EMMA MOETON. 


113 


drunk about nine o’clock, and killed his wife, and crippled his daughter,” 
responded the other. 

“ Good God ! ” said Moore, “ what a catastrophe ; my wife must know 
it immediately.” 

He then with great emotion bore the sad intelligence to his wife. She 
almost fainted on hearing it; and after recovering from the shock suffi- 
ciently to think and speak, said : 

‘‘ O, we must immediately go to comfort poor Emma. O, dear creature! 
how awful she must feel.” 

Well, prepare yourself, and I’ll have the carriage ready in a few mo- 
ments,” said her husband. 

When they had nearly reached Morton’s house, they met the offi- 
cers and others bringing Morton to jail. Mr. Moore wished to speak to 
him, but on being informed by the officers that he was too drunk to speak, 
he and his wife went on. They found some ladies preparing Mrs. Mor- 
ton for interment. They invited Mr. Moore into the parlor, and took 
Mrs. Moore with them into the private room, to see the corpse. The 
awful sight overcame her, and she threw herself on a lounge, to prepare 
her mind for the heart-rending scene. Mr. Moore met Blackwood in the 
parlor, bathed in tears, and extending his hand, said : 

“ O, my dear sir ! this is a horrid affair ; but while liquor is in the land, 
we must expect to see the like often, and we will have to witness death 
under the most painful circumstances.” 

O, Mr. Moore ! ” said Blackwood, “ I would rather die than again suf- 
fer what I have this night. I had just reached the front door as the in- 
nocent, lovely Emma exclaimed, ‘ O, my father ! ’ I knew her sw^eet 
voice, and my blood curdled at the apparent agony of her spotless soul. 
With all my speed, I ran into the room, but entered one second — ’’here 
he choked with grief for a moment and then added — “one poor second too 
late, to save her dear mother’s life ! With horror I snatched to stay the 
fatal blow ; but — O, my God! — I was too far in the rear and could not 
reach the hand that aimed it , and it went with, double force against her 
temple, and the husband and wife fell together prostrate on the floor — the 
husband drunk — the wife dead! Bewildered, sick, aye, lost, I gazed upon 
them until the awful words, ‘ O ! my father ! ’ reverberated in my brain, 
when Emma’s beloved form filled my mind. Anxiety for her safety 
roused me from my consternation ; and I inquired of Mary, who stood 
behind Mrs. Morton, when she fell, where Emma was. The terrified 
girl could not speak, but pointed to the place where she lay on the 
floor. I found that although breathless, her pulse had not ceased to 
beat, and I directed Mary to haste for a doctor and other assistance ; and 
8 — 


114 


EMMA MORTON. 


when the doctor camej he pronounced her mother dead, and ordered 
Emma to be taken up to her bed-chamber for medical treatment. O ! 
what a^nies will torture her kind heart when her consciousness re- 
turns ! O ! she has to know that her mother is slain, and that her 
own wound was given by her father’s hand — her own father, whom 
she loved so dearly ; and to whom, the last time she saw him, she 
screamed ‘ O ! my father ! ’ O ! that I could save her from this living 
death I ” 

Exhausted, he fell on the sofa, in such soul stirring sorrow, that Mr. 
Moore’s face was covered with tears ; and taking a seat by his side, said, 
soothingly : 

“You have indeed, my dear sir, witnessed a horrid scene in life’s 
drama ; but let us not be overcome by the dark clouds under which we 
have passed, but look forward to brighter days which we hope still await 
us. Like yourself, I deprecate the pain a knowledge of this night’s oc- 
currences will give her, when she is able to comprehend them. But she 
is a girl of an uncommon mind, and I believe her piety and good sense 
will support her, even under this, the most severe affliction.” 

The doctor then entered the parlor. 

“ Well, doctor,” said Mr. Moore, “what do you think of your patient 
— will she recover ? ” 

“ O, yes,” he replied; “but she has received a very severe blow just 
above the ear, which lias jarred the brains and broken some of their 
smaller blood-vessels, which has induced a comatose sleep, and that will 
continue until the brains become healed ; and then I think she will be as 
well as ever.” 

“ How long, doctor, will it take to heal them ? ” inquired Blackwood, 
anxiously. 

‘‘ O ! a day or two,” replied the doctor. 

“ Can I see her, doctor, before that time?” asked Blackwood. 

“ Just when you please, sir,” said the doctor ; “ but it is best to keep 
her as quiet as possible, for a few days.” 

Morning came, and Mr. Moore returned home, leaving his wife wilh 
Emma, until she could be removed to their house ; and Mr. Blackwood 
agreed to assist Mrs. Mopre in the necessary dulies. 

When the unwearied earth had rolled her gloomy cell to the light of 
day, Morton opened his swollen eyes, and half a>leep gazed round on his 
strange abode. With slow and dronish thought, he said to himself : 

“ Why, where am I ? ” and attempting to turn on his hard bed, found 
himself handculfed. “ I have surely done something criminal, and have 
been handcuffed and put in prison for it.” He paused, and then added ; 


EMMA MORTON. 


115 


“Oil wish I had some brandy ! ” The door opened, and the jailor said : 
“ Halloo, Mr. Morton, are you awake ? ” 

“ Y-e-s, sir,” said Morton, in a yawning manner. 

“ Well, here^s a gentleman wishing to see you,” said the jailor. 

“ Let him co-me in, then,” replied Morton. 

The jailor let the visitor in, and then locked the door. The gentleman 
stood and trembled, with his his eyes fixed on Morton, and tears flowing 
down his cheeks, for a minute or two, and then said : 

“ Good God ! how shall I approach him I Poor fellow ; I wish I 
could recall but one day of our lives ; but it’s vain to wish to undo what 
we have done. The past is gone, the future is to come, the present is 
all we can call our own j and to use the present properly, is the bounden 
duty of man, and that duty I’ll henceforth endeavor to discharge.” And 
stepping forward, he threw himself by Morton’s side, weeping as though 
his heart would break, and said : 

“ O ! my dear, and deeply injured and abused fellow sufferer, forgive, 
O ! forgive me, for aiding to bring you here. I acknowledge that I have 
erred and sinned grievously against you, and fiend-like, led you astray 
but I did so without reflecting on the awful consequences of my wicked 
folly. O ! forgive me, if you can 5 if not, let me suffer in your stead.”" 

This address sounded strange to Morton, and brought him more to his 
senses. And fixing his glaring eyes inquiringly on the speaker — 

“ In the name of heaven and earth, Roper, what is the meaning of 
your strange harangue, and why am I here in irons ? ” said Morton, in 
deep* feeling. 

“ O ! my dear sir,” said Roper, “ don’t you know yet ? ” 

“ No,” replied Morton ; “I have no idea at all of what I have done, 
that would merit this treatment. Come, tell me, quick ! ” 

“ O ! Morton,” said Roper, “ that is a task I cannot perform ; anoth- 
er’s lips must tell the tale of woe.” 

Morton sprang to his feet, and assuming a most awful attitude, said, 
sternly : 

“ Roper, you have implored my forgiveness for something of which I 
have no knowledge ; and offered excuses for what you have done. Now, 
how can I apply your excuses, or forgive your injuries without knowing 
what those injuries are ? Speak, and keep me no longer on the rack ! ” 

“O ! Morton,” said Roper, “ do you think you can forgive injuries of 
the most serious nature ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Morton, “if they have been inflicted through a mis- 
take of their character and consequences, and I find the injurer truly sor- 
ry for his conduct, as I believe you are at the present time.” 


116 


EMMA MORTON. 


“ Well, then,” said Roper, if you will not hate me for telling you a 
tale of woe, I will inform you of the cause of your imprisonment.” 

“ Hate you,” said Morton, “for relieving me of a load of suspense ? 
No, Roper, I will like you the better for it. Proceed.” 

Roper then, with tears in his eyes, related the occurrences of the day 
before, down to the time he saw Morton enter his house, and he paused 
and sighed ; and Morton, knowing what an enraged drunken man, when 
thrown out of doors as he had been, would likely do when he got home, 
stared wildly at him, and turning deathly pale, he exclaimed : 

“ O ! my God ! I have killed my wife, have I ? ” 

With a bosom almost ready to burst with grief, Roper said : 

“You have; and wounded Emma ! and I have helped you to do it! ” 
Morton, with an awful groan fell to the floor. Roper kneeled over 
him, and implored his forgiveness, but he spoke not. A heavy swoon 
crushed him to the floor, and Roper called to the jailor for assistance. 
The jailor had just come to the door with Morton’s breakfast, followed 
by Mr. Moore. He let Mr. Moore in, who soon discovered the condition 
of Morton, and sent for a doctor. And then turning to Roper, “ How 
dare you,” said he, “to pursue this unfortunate man any further ? ” 

“ O I Mr. Moore,” said Roper, “ what I did yesterday was merely for 
fun, without thinking of the sad consequences that might follow ; I have 
now seen the evil effects of liquor, and after swearing eternal enmity to 
it in all its forms, with O’Brien, last night, we poured all he had on the 
ground ; and I came here early this morning to obtain Morton’s pardon for 
helping to make him drunk. But he did not know what he was in prison 
for, and induced me to inform him, and when he heard that he had killed 
his wife, he fell in a swoon to the floor, as you see him.” * 

The doctor’s presence interrupted them, and he drew their attention 
to the relief of Morton. After various applications, the swoon turned 
into a violent attack of delirium tremens ; and much doubt was enter- 
tained of his recovery. After an hour or so, Roper said : 

“ Mr. Moore, you probably have some other things to attend to. If 
so, leave Mr. Morton with me. I will attend to him as faithfully as I 
would to a brother.” 

“ I should like to go and see how his daughter is doing, and attend to 
the arrangements for the funeral of his wife,” said Mr. Moore; “but 
poor Morton must be attended to; and if you will take care of him, I 
will compensate you,” he added. 

“ I will do it faithfully, sir,” said Roper; “ but not for compensation.” 
“ Well, sir, I will leave him in your care, for a little while,” said Mr. 
Moore, and then withdrew. 


EMMA MOKTON. 


117 


“ Good morning to you, my old friend,” said Jarvis to O’Brien, the 
next morning after the election, as he rode up to his door. 

“ Good morning. General,” replied O’Brien coolly. 

“ Well, give us a little of your good stuff, this morning, O’Brien, for 
I feel a little qualmish,” said Jarvis. 

O’Brien walked in, and brought out a glass of water ; and as he came 
to the door, Jarvis said : 

“ Why, by my soul, O’Brien, it’s as good as a morning dram to smell 
the air round your house this morning, it has such a strong odor of li- 
quor.” And then taking the glass in his hand, and looking at it, he 
sprung up and added, “ Why, O’Brien, what’s this ? ” 

“ Taste it sir,” said O’Brien. The General did so, and said : 

“ You old tricker, it’s water. I want something stronger than that, 
you know,” he added with a peculiar smile. 

“ Well, General,” said O’Brien, ‘‘ that is my good stuff now; and if 
you want anything stronger, you can’t get it from my house, for Roper 
and I cleansed it last night when we returned from Morton’s, by throw- 
ing every drop of the murderous slop upon the ground : and then we 
both swore eternal enmity to it in all its forms ; and 1 am determined, 
if I starve,t o do the best I can to drive it from the land.” The Gene- 
ral saw that O’Brien was in earnest ; and, knowing his determined 
character, simply said, “You old fool,” and rode off. 

“ I had rather be an old fool than an old devil,” replied O’Brien. 

Soon after Mr. Moore and the doctor left Emma in the morning, Mr. 
Blackwood requested of Mrs. Moore permission to see her, and he was 
invited up stairs. She lay perfectly composed, and breatlied like one in 
sleep, but her head and face were much swollen. He stood by her bed 
side, bathed in tears for a long time, and then went down and walked 
over the ground where he and Emma had so mirthfully strolled when he 
was there before. Every tree, shrub, nook and corner of the farm, 
brought her gentle form before him ; and every sound from bee or bird 
revived in his memory her mellow voice. The fleecy smoke curling up- 
wards from the neighboring flues, reminded him of their fireside joys 
under her parents’ eyes ; and looking at the mansion with a melancholy 
smile and an inquiring eye, he said to himself : 

“ O ! where are they now ? One dead, another perhaps dying, and 
the third in prison for murder. And what has done this terrible work ? 
Are we left at the mercy of the savages and wild beasts of the forest ? 
O, no ! we are protected from them by the strong arm of the law. But 
a ihing tenfold more destructive is fostered, protected and kept by law, 
in our midst, to destroy our sweetest joys and sever our strongest ties. 


118 


EMMA MORTON. 


O! my soul sickens at the cruel absurdities of civilized man. Pll go 
in, for the sight of these objects is more than I can bear.” 

When he returned to the house, he met Mr. Moore, who had just re- 
turned from town. 

Have you seen Mr. Morton this morning ? ” asked Mr. Blackwood. 

‘‘ I left him a few minutes before I started out here, in a violent fit of 
delirium tremens,” replied Moore. 

“ Poor man,” said Blackwood ; I want to go and see him.” 

“ It is no use to go to-day, Mr. Blackwood,” said Moore ; “to-morrow 
will be time enough, I think.” 

“ I suppose it will,” replied Blackwood, and sat down in silence. 

During the day busy rumor had borne the tale of death to every ear 
for miles around ; and the house of woe was crowded with inquiring 
spectators, most of whom, as they withdrew, expressed indignant feel- 
ings at their rulers, for permitting such a deadly thing as alcohol to be 
so freely used. And late in the afternoon, the corpse of one of the best 
wives that ever lived, was committed to the tomb in the presence of a 
sorrowing people, who filled the air with their sighs, and watered the 
ground with their tears. But the earth received not an ordinary de- 
posit. The corpse of Mrs. Morton was as a Temperance seed planted 
in good ground, to spring up and produce a hundred fold. The remarks 
of the officiating clergy were masterly and appropriate ; and the effects 
of that funeral have been seen and felt by many happy souls ; and they 
will attend the destiny of man through time’s fleeting rounds, and then 
accompany him through the vast circle of eternity. 

In the evening, Mrs. Moore stepped with a light in her hand^ to Em- 
ma’s bedside, to see how she was. When the light fell on her eye-lids, 
they flew open and she gazed wildly at the objects around, like one 
awaking in a strange place. 

“ How, are you, my dear ? ” said Mrs. Moore. 

“ Right well, madam, I thank you,” replied Emma, with a quick nod 
of the head, which made her cringe and say “ O ! ” 

“ Does your head pain you Emma? ” said Mrs. Moore soothingly. 

“ Yes — no,” she said; and then commenced singing in her usually af- 
fecting manner, her favorite song “ Home.” Mrs. Moore had often 
heard her sing it before in the family circle, for her parents, but never 
with such affecting melody. She at first tried to quiet her ; but over- 
come by the music she threw herself on a chair, and rested her head on 
the bedside. Blackw’ood and Mr. Moore were drawn up stairs by her 
melting strains. At her door they stood bereft of manhood, and sob- 
bing like motherless babes. The effect increased as she ended verse 


MMA MORTON. 


119 


after verse, until she closed the last line with a peculiar melancholy tone 
and shut her eyes. 

“O! my God,” exclaimed Blackwood, ‘‘what shall I do? my heart 
will break. O ! who will be able to console her when she learns that 
her home is ruined ? ” 

“Ah! Blackwood,” said Mr. Moore, “ it will be a bitter cup for 
her. But I trust in her good sense and pious mind, for her support un- 
der it.” 

Mrs. Moore heard their voices, and after commanding her feelings, in- 
vited them in. Emma had again fallen into an apparent sleep. Silently 
they looked at her for a few moments, and then weeping, withdrew into 
the parlor, where each sat down without uttering a word. 

Several times through the night, Emma opened her eyes* and looked 
round, but according to the doctor’s directions, Mrs. Moore asked her no 
questions. By the next morning the swelling had nearly all disappeared, 
and her countenance had resumed its natural form 5 and a little after 
sun-rise she awoke ; and, looking at Mrs. Moore, in a pleasant manner, 
said : 

“ Good morning, Mrs. Moore. I must thank you for your early 
visits and I am sorry that I was not up sooner, to receive you, and hope 
to be excused for my sluggishness. She then made an effort to rise, but 
her head hurt her ; and, putting up her hand, and feeling the bandages 
around it, she exclaimed, with a terrified face, “ O 1 my God I it’s true, 
it’s true, and not a dream. My father has got drunk and struck me. O ! 
my father I ” and then she fell into a swoon. 

Blackwood, on hearing her repeat the awful exclamation, “O ! my 
father,” rushed, as he had done the first time he heard it, to the object of 
distress, followed by Mr. Moore, and looking at Emma’s pale cheeks and 
quivering lips, he staggered back, and threw himself on a lounge, as pale 
as the fainting Emma. By proper restoratives, Mrs. Moore succeeded in 
a few minutes to bring the native hue to Emma’s face, and she breathed 
like one in healthful sleep. The doctor advised to “let her rest, and to 
keep her quiet until she awoke of herself and then he added : “ By 
sleep, her brains will gain strength, which will be necessary to enable 
her to bear the shock of mind that awaits her.” 

“Do you think, doctor,” said Blackwood, “that her intellect will be 
impaired ? ” 

“ O, no, sir,” replied the doctor ; “ but you know to the mind of one 
whose brains have not been injured, the appalling tidings she has yet to 
hear, would be a severe trial ; and, therefore, I deem it best to furnish 
her with all the strength we can, before she knows the mournful be- 


120 


EMMA MORTON. 


reavement she is called on to bear. This advice they all endeavored to 
pursue. 

Messrs. Blackwood and Moore then rode to town to see Morton. They 
found him released from his hand-cuffs, but in a state of derangement, 
unable to recognize any person; but, the doctor informed them that he 
was recovering. They saw that Roper was very attentive to him, and 
they soon withdrew. Mr. Moore went home to attend to some business, 
.and Blackwood returned to Emma. In the evening she awoke in tears ; 
and after wiping them from her eyes, and giving a. swallow or two, she 
said : 

“ O ! my friend, I thank you kindly, for your attention in my time of 
affliction ; and, -to relieve your anxious mind, I am glad I can inform you 
that I feel my bodily strength retuined ; but — but — I — O no more : par- 
don me, Mrs. Moore,” she added, with tears and sighs. 

‘‘ My dearest girl,” said Mrs. Moore, “ be comforted — what is it you 
were going to say ? ” 

With strong efforts to compose herself, she said : “ I should like to 

rise and dress myself, and take some refreshments.” 

“ O ! my dear child,” said Mrs. Moore, “I fear you are too weak to 
be up ; but if you wish me, I will assist you.” Emma sprung out of 
bed with almost her usual agility, and was soon dressed in her neat, art- 
less manner. 

“ Now, my good friend,” said she, “ I am ready to go down to sup- 
per.” 

“ O ! dearest,” said Mrs. Moore, ‘‘I would Hot go down this evening. 
I will have your supper brought up, and then you may go down in the 
morning to your breakfast.” 

‘‘ Do you think that is the better way ? ” said Emma. 

‘‘ Indeed I do,” said Mrs. Moore, with a motherly smile. 

“ Well, then, be it so; for I cannot think much about things just now, 
and I will take your advice,’’ said Emma. 

Mrs. Moore rang the bell, and Mary soon appeared. “ Mary,” said 
Mrs. Moore, “ prepare my pretty bird here a good supper, and bring it 
up as soon as ready.” 

‘‘I will, madam,” said Mary, and then turned to go. 

‘‘Here, Mary,” said Emma. Mary stepped towards her, and with the 
affection of two sisters, in the hour of affliction, they pressed themselves 
together, and wept on each other’s shoulders, for some minutes, without 
saying a word. At last Emma said : “ There, that will do, my good 

girl ; now go : ” and wiping her eyes and composing herself the best she 
could, she sat down in profound thoughtfulness. Mrs. Moore thought 


EMMA MORTON. 


121 


she was in her right mind, and yet her expressions and conduct seemed 
so strange she could not decide whether she was or not. She sat for 
some time watching her countenance, which was perfectly natural, 
though deeply expressive of inward sorrow. At last she said : ‘‘ Emma? 
does your head feel easy ? ” 

Perfectly so, madam,” said Emma, ‘‘ when I keep it still ; but I 
think my poor father must have given me a severe blow and then the 
tears fell from her eyes ; and, pressing her hands on her bosom, she 
added : “ But I forgive him, with all mv heart, for I know it was not 

his fault.” 

This expression increased Mrs. Moore’s perplexity, and she deemed it 
best to call in her husband. 

“ Well, my dear girl,” said Mr. Moore, as he entered the room, “how 
are you now ? ” 

“ O ! my dear friend,” said Emma, in a mournful tremulous voice, 
“ my poor heart aches ; but I thank God for a hope that he will support 
me through my uncommon troubles.” 

“ None but He can do so Em, and your trust in him is well founded,” 
said Mr. Moore; and then, in a low voice, asked his wife if she had in- 
formed her of her mother’s death, and its attendant circumstances. 

“ No, not a word about it,” said Mrs. Moore. 

“ Why,” said he, “ she seems to know all about it.” 

“I know she does,” said his wife, “and that is the reason why I called 
you in. Here is Mary,” she added, aloud, “with my Em’s supper;” 
and raising a leaf of a table that was close to Emma’s chair, she contin- 
ued, “Jiere, Mary, put it here. There ; that will do. And now my 
dear, come, help yourself.” Emma turned to the table, and ate a little, 
while tears all the time flowed down her cheeks. 

“ Come, my dear,” said Mrs. Moore, “ eat some more ; you have 
eaten nothing hardly yet.” 

“ O ! my dear madam, I cannot eat any more, now ; and I should not 
have eaten what I have, but I have a task to perform, and I know if I 
do not take some refreshment, I shall fail in its performance.” 

They were now more perplexed than ever. Emma saw their uneasi- 
ness, and the goodness of her heart prompted her to relieve them as 
soon as she thought her strength would bear the trial ; and, believing 
that she was then able to bear it, she looked earnestly at them and said : 

“ My dear friends, I am sorry to see that my conduct has troubled 
your minds, and would gladly have relieved you before this time, but I 
feared my strength would fail me. I believe I know all the dreadful 
tragedy that has been acted here ; and, as I know I cannot recall the 


122 


EMMA MORTON. 


past, I pray God to prepare me for the eventful future. And now, if 
it is not imprudent in me to have Mr. Blackwood with us, you will 
please me by calling him in, and then I will state the grounds on which 
my belief is founded,” 

“ I will go down for him,” said Mr. Moore, and left the room. 

“ Mr. Blackwood,” said Mr. Moore, ‘‘ Emma wishes you to come up 
stairs.” 

Why, how does she know I am here ? ” said Blackwood, hastily. 

Indeed, I do not know,” said Moore ; “ but she knows it, and I be- 
live she knows all about the sad affair too, or her mind is strangely de- 
ranged 5 and I think it would be well for you to act cautiously on your 
interview.” 

“ I will try to do so, sir,” said Blackwood, as they advanced. When 
he entered her room, Emma was sitting by the side of Mrs. Moore, try- 
ing to be composed ; but when she saw him, she flew into his arms ex- 
claiming, “O I my friend, you meet me in sorrow, as first we met,” and 
becoming lifeless in his arms, Mrs. Moore assisted him in laying her on 
the bed. 

“ O ! ” said Blackwood, “ I feared this above all things , but I now 
hope it will soon be over. O ! Emma,” he continued, as she turned her 
overflowing eyes towards him, “ I wish I could suffer for you.” 

‘‘ Mercy ! have mercy on me, O ! my Saviour,” she exclaimed, with 
uplifted hands, and then gasping and weeping, she added: “ O ! sir, you 
saved me from the flames — but — could not — save me from this load of 
grief. Though, like a guardian angel, you attend my steps in time of 
need.” Then gazing soothingly at him she continued : “ Nay, friend 

of my childhood, weep not. I wish to see you smile as you did days gone 
by, when, hand-in-hand, we glided over the lawn then shivering, she 
closed her eyes. 

‘‘ O ! Emma,” said Blackwood ; “ how can I smile when you weep, or 
how can joy enter my heart, when yours is filled with woe.” 

Wiping her eyes and catching her breath, she said : “ There — there 

now, ni try to keep from weeping. Excuse me, for indeed I could not 
keep back my tears; and you know, that the blessed Jesus wept at the 
sight of human woes.” 

• “ And so do I, at the sight of yours,” said Blackwood; “ and indeed 
they are enough to make the rocks of the hills melt into tears.” 

“ Aye, Mr. Blackwood,” she said ; “ but there are human hearts in 
our land, harder than the rocks, or I should not have to suffer thus. But 
I tread not the vale of sorrow alone. My Heavenly Father, and you, 
and these sympathising friends are with me. O ! how sweet is heav- 


EMMA MORTON. 


123 


enly grace mingled with earthly friendship.” Then turning her ado- 
ring eyes upwards, and raising her trembling hands, she added : 

“ O ! thou God of the orphan ! strengthen me. My struggling soul 
adores Thee for Thy mercy.” 

Her three friends stood by her bedside, so much overcome with grief 
and astonishment that they could make no reply. She saw their anguish, 
and increased her efforts to be composed. A flood of heavenly joy was 
poured into her soul, and rising from the bed, she stood on the floor, and 
clapped her hands together, and exclaimed : 

Hallelujah ! for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.” Then turning 
to her friends, with eyes beaming wdth joy, she added: “The victory is 
mine. Come, dear ones, sit down and be composed ; I have a horrid tale 
to tell, but I am too weak for the task to-night. I know my sainted 
mother is in heaven, and that my dear unfortunate father is in prison. 
Now let us refresh ourselves with sleep, and in the morning, in his dole- 
ful cell, I will relate my awTul story.” 

After a night’s refreshing sleep, Emma rose early the next morning, 
and commenced preparations for town. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

HOLLAND VISITS MORTON THE MEETING OF EMMA AND HER FATHER 

HOLLAND THRUST OUT IN DISGRACE. 

“ O ! Roper,” said Morton, as he was taking his first prison-house 
breakfast in his right mind, “ this is a gloomy meal to me; the last one I 
recollect eating was with my beloved wife and daughter, in our own then 
happy home.” He paused, and then said to himself : “ Home, sweet 
home,” and turning with tearful eyes to Roper, added, “ Have you 
heard how my daughter is this morning ? ” 

“ The jailor said at breakfast this morning, he heard last night she was 
recovering very fast,” replied Roper. 

“ Thank God, for that. O ! Roper, how I long to see her,” said Mor- 
ton. 

The door opened, and as a flash of joy filled his mind, he exclaimed : 
“ She comes ! ” 

“Mr. Morton, Mr. Holland has called to see you,” said the jailor. 


124 


EMMA MOKTON 


Roper was astonished at the villain’s boldness, but Morton, not know- 
ing his villainy, said : 

“ Let him come in.” 

“ O, my dear friend Morton !” said he, not seeing Roper ; “my heart 
grieves to see you here. How are you, this morning ? I hope you are 
well.” 

“I thank you, Mr. Holland,” said Morton, “for your kindness; I 
feel—” 

“ Mr. Moore, and two ladies and a gentleman,” said the jailor. 

“ Let them in,” said Morton; and springing to his feet, met his dutiful, 
bereft child at the door. They spoke not — they could not speak — but 
folding their outstretched arms around each other, and pressing their 
throbbing breasts together, they wept away their strength, and like melt- 
ing snow, they sank down until they were seated on the prison floor. 
Then gently placing his hand beside her head, he raised his own, and ga- 
zing mournfully on her snowy brow, pressed his quivering lips upon it, 
as he said : 

“ O ! O ! my dear, dear daughter ! ” Then nestling her up to his bo- 
som, like a mother would a tender babe, he smoothed her temples, saying : 
“ There, there, my dear, my lovely Em, cease your weeping ; but, O ! I 
made you weep — I, fiend-like, marred that which is beautiful — I ruth- 
lessly struck this lovely head. O ! — ” 

“ No, no, no! my father ! ” she said ; “ you struck me not. The cruel 
blow was given by the voters of our country, and you were only the un- 
conscious instrument they used to inflict it ; you are not to blame, and I 
excuse you.” 

“ Loveliest of beings,” said Morton, “ your heavenly nature soothes 
my almost broken heart, and makes me proud of such a child. But, O ! 
how my conduct has disgraced you.” 

“ No! no! dear father,” she said; “you were only an instrument in 
the hands of others, and I regard not the disgrace.” Her father then 
rose to his feet, and taking her by the hand, said : 

“ My dearest Em, your voice consoles my heart ; rise from this loath- 
some floor, it suits you not.” 

To say that those who witnessed the interview between Morton and 
his daughter, thus briefly and imperfectly described, were deeply af- 
fected, is useless. For every one knows that the sympathies of our na- 
ture will not let us behold such scenes without tear-drops rolling from 
our eyes. But here were spectators under different circumstances. 
Here were Mr. and Mrs. Moore, and Blackwood, who felt no compunc- 
tions of conscience for aiding to bring on this awful tragedy that caused 


JEMMA MORTON. 


125 


Morton and his daughter to meet in this afflicting manner. They wept 
the unalloyed tears of sympathy and friendship. And here was Roper ; 
the hitherto light-hearted, thoughtless, trick-playing, but now penitent 
Roper. He felt that by his desire for fun he had suffered himself to be 
used by knaves as an instrument to perpetrate the blackest crimes. He 
wept tears of sympathy, commingled with self-reproach, for his igno- 
rant folly. And there was Holland, Morton’s friend by profession, but 
in heart and deed, his deadly foe ; who thought with gold he could buy 
an angel ; and who, to gratify his beastly soul, had helped to make the 
father a demon, to bring the daughter within his grasp. Even he, wept 
some sympathetic tears ; but among them were tears of joy on the suc- 
cess of his plans, and tears of hope that the lovely being he then beheld, 
would soon be reduced to poverty, and willingly then become his wife. 
There he stood like a fiend of infernal night, clothed in the habiliments 
of. Heaven, when the spotless Emma rose to her feet, and cast her tear- 
wet eyes around the gloomy cell. When she beheld his hated face, she 
paused and turned pale, and her breast swelled. He advanced towards 
her, and said : 

Miss Morton — ” 

“ Hypocrite ! you are painful to my eyes. How dare you to show 
your hateful face where there is one speck of virtue present ; or to visit 
him with whom you have so basely acted the traitor ? ” said she with a 
flushed face and a pitiful lip. He then attempted to speak, but she 
quickly added : “ I must avoid you as the fountain of sin. Be gone, 
monster, and quit my sight.” 

Why, my daughter, are you so offended with Mr, Holland ? ” said 
her father. 

“ There, father,”’ said Emma, handing him the warning letter ; that 
in part will inform you.” 

Morton read it with deep emotion, and then said, with a sigh: 

‘‘ When did you receive this, Em ? ” 

‘‘ On the morning of election, just after that Mr. Holland took you 
away,” said Emma. 

“ O ! my God,” said Morton, “ why did I not get it then ? ” 

“ That more than deceiver, there, knows why,” said Emma pointing 
to Holland. 

Mr. Morton looked at him, and Holland said : 

“ Mr. Morton, your daughter, I perceive, thinks that I prevented you ^ 
from receiving that letter in due time. I hope, sir, she will pardon me 
for assuring you that I did not ; and that I prize your friendship too 
highly to do anything that would injure you.” As he closed, his voice 


126 


EMMA MORTON. 


faltered, and he turned deathly pale in consequence of having seen Ro- 
per present. 

Emma saw his guilt lurking in his dark black eyes 5 and with a con- 
temptuous look, said : 

“ You guilty, loathsome deceiver; I know the part you have acted to 
bring my father here;” and then turning to her father, she said: 
“ Father, hear me. Soon after you left home on election day, this letter 
was brought for you by a man on horseback. Dear mother and I, after 
consultation, laid it away unopened. Soon after I took a walk, and sat 
down in the grove in the meadow, near the road ; and I heard that 
wretch say to a man whom he called Morgan, that he had taken you 
round the back way, under the pretense of getting you to look at a horse, 
to prevent you from receiving that letter ; and that he had employed a 
Mr. Roper by a heavy bet, and several others, to make you drunk that 
day ; and that if he could not get you drunk by any other means, he was 
determined to have liquor poured down your throat uutil you would 
drink of your own acccord : for he was determined to reduce you to 
poverty, to humble that proud girl of yours.” 

“ Treacherous villain ! ” said Morton, turning to Holland ; “ what 
has caused you to act thus towards me ? ” 

“ Your daughter is mistaken, sir,” said Holland ; “ it must have been 
some other person whom she mistook for me, under, the excitement of 
the occasion.” 

“I saw the villain plainly, father,” said Emma; ‘'and, besides, this 
morning I inquired of the three men mother sent after you, why they 
could not find you ; and they said that Holland had laid a trap to make 
them drunk, and keep them so, in order that they should not get you to 
go home ; and that a man whom he had employed for the purpose told 
them so.” 

Morton swelled and choked with rage ; and throwing himself in a 
most friglitful attitude before Holland, and staring at him like a wild 
man, he said : 

“ Fiend, murderer, hell-dog, monster! Fll tear you limb from limb ; ” 
and then rushing at him with his mouth open, and hands extended, 
caught him'^by the throat with one hand, and by the pantaloons with the 
other, and hurled him to the fl^or. Holland cried out; 

“O! gentlemen, save me from his rage ; ” and Mr. Blackwood and 
^ Mr. Moore stepped between them. 

“O! Mr. Morion,” said Blackwood, “ I know you have just cause 
for vengeance, but spare your strength for a better cause. This wretch 
is too mean to think of. Let him retire.” 


EMMA MORTON. 


127 


Mr. Morton then sat down much exhausted 5 and Holland was turned 
out. 

‘‘ O ! how have I been beset and utterly ruined by a set of scoun- 
drels,” said Morton. 

O’Brien, after being announced, came in trembling with confusion 
and grief, and stood for a moment and gazed on Morton’s distorted face ; 
and then casting himself on the floor before him, said : 

“ O ! my injured sir, with a grief worn heart I have come to ac- 
knowledge my errror, and implore your pardon for basely aiding to 
bring you here ; but I did it without reflecting on the consequences of 
what I did. O ! I am guilty, and you are innocent ! O ! forgive me — 
your pardon is the greatest boon I desire on earth.” 

Morton looked at him with a friendly smile, and having learned from 
Roper of O’Brien’s deep repentance, and consequent acts, he said — 

“ O’Brien, this is an awful calamity that has fallen upon us ; and I think 
it is enough to teach us that alcohol is the most dangerous thing in the 
world, and nerve us to unceasing action until it is exterminated from the 
abode of man.” 

“ O ! sir,” replied O’Brien, ‘‘ I have sworn eternal enmity to it, and 
I will keep my oath until I die.” 

‘‘ Enough,” said Morton, ‘‘I forgive you 5” and then hung down his 
head in meditation. 

“I thank you, sir, and I wish you hereafter to use me as your wants 
may need me,” said O’Brien, kindly. 

Morton then turned to Emma, and drawing her close to his breast, and 
pressing his lips again on her brow, he said : “ O ! my daughter, what 

awful crimes I have committed. O ! your dear mother could not utter a 
word to sting me with her just hatred.” 

“ Hold, hold, dear father^” said Emma, springing seemingly into new 
life ; “ my dear sainted mother hates you not.” 

“ O ! that I could believe so,” said her father. 

“ Well, hear me then,” said she, in a low, distinct voice ; and with a 
watchful eye, as though she wished that none but those present should 
hear: “After the awful alarm given to mother and I by that letter, ♦ 
and what you have already heard, we sat in dread suspense, until the de- 
structive liquid smothered Howland’s innocent babe. Mother soon re- 
turned from the murderous scene, and our foreboings became more painful 
by what she had seen, added to your delay. At night-fall, neither of the 
men we sent for you had returned ; and, overcome with care and grief, 
we sat down in despair, to await our doom. When the clock struck nine, 
mother went into the kitchen to close up, and then you came in. I met 


128 


EMMA MOKTON. 


you at the room door, but you looked so awful that I was almost scared 
to death. You ordered me out of your way, but all I could do was to 
exclaim, ‘ O ! my father.’ You then struck, and I felt my head jar, and 
fell senseless to the floor. •Afterwards I heard Mr. Blackwood say, 
‘run for a doctor.’ I knew his voice, but could not speak, and fell 
asleep. Again my head pained me, and my eyes opened, and I saw the 
room was crowded, and fear filled my heart. I heard the doctor say, 
‘Mrs. Morton is dead.’ A dark cloud came over my brains, and again 
I slept ; and in my sleep I thought over all that had passed. When 
again I awoke, it seemed like early morning, and I saw Mrs. Moore 
looking over me. I thought it strange that she had made such an early 
visit, and apologizing for my sluggishness, attempted to rise; but a 
pain in my head caused me to put up my hands, and feeling the bandages 
around my head, I exclaimed, ‘ With certainty it is true, and not a 
dream;’ and again my eyes were closed in seeming sleep. But O! 
what I heard in that sleep ! Heavenly music filled the air, and shouting 
voices in mellow strains sang, ‘ Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, for 
the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.’ The awful silence of Heaven fol- 
lowed, and I heard one whispering say : ‘ Emma be joyful ; do the best 
you can, and trust in God, and all will be well. You are wounded, 
your father is in prison, and your mother has been slain by her coun- 
try’s laws. The sting of sorrow has pierced your heart; but weep not, 
your mother is happy. Arise, and console your beloved father in his 
heart-rending affliction, and tell him that his loving wife does not blame 
him for her awful death, but imputes it to those who vote in favor of 
alcohol. Be comforted ; farewell.’ I opened my eyes, and instead of 
dear mother, my kind friend, Mrs. Moore, was by my bed-side ; and 
then I believed the still small voice had spoken truth, and I have now 
come, dear father, to offer all the consolation that your poor, weak Em is 
able to give you.” 

WTth wondering minds they all listened to her astonishing narrative, 
and Roper whispered to O’Brien : 

“ If that ain’t an angel, I know nothing.” 

And in silent thought and sorrow the remainder of the morning passed 
away, and all withdrew except Emma. She, after much entreaty, pre- 
vailed on her father to let her stay with him in prison, and preparations 
were made for that purpose, and Mr. Moore took charge of his farm. 
A few days after, Emma rode out with Mr. Moore and his wife to bring 
in her wearing apparel, and such other things as she needed. And see- 
ing her father’s pistol, and taking it in her hand, looked at it with tears 
in her eyes, and drawing a heavy sigh, she said to it : 


EMMA MOKTON. 


129 


“ Thou deadly weapon ! thou sent’st my mother into eternity,; but, un- 
conscious thing, thou wast not to blame ; and for the pleasure thou hast 
afforded me Pll take care of thee for future use.” And then she locked 
it up in her trunk, and returned to her father, with whom she found 
Blackwood, Roper, and O’Brien. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

EMMA PRAYS WITH HER FATHER MORTOn’s TRIAL THE MYSTERY OF 

THE OLD GENTLEMAN EXPLAINED MORTOn’s DEATH. 

The time for Morton’s trial soon came, and the evening before it was 
to be commenced, Blackwood and Emma were with him talking the sub- 
ject over. 

“ I care not for this life,” said Morton, “ but for my poor daughter. 
If I am hung, what a disgrace it will be to her.” 

“O ! my dear father,” said Emma, “think not of that ; but strive to 
prepare for an awful eternity.” 

“ O ! my dear, I am afraid that I am deluded in every way, and my 
mind is all in commotion,” said her father ; “so that I cannot connect 
one thought with another.” 

“0! compose yourself, Mr. Morton,” said Blackwood; “I do not 
think a jury can be picked that will convict you of murder, under the 
circumstances of the case; and I know Mr. Sanford will make good 
use of them, and I strongly hope that you will be acquitted. And this 
hope seems to pervade the whole community.” 

“ Ah ! sir,” said Morton, “ I have suffered more already than a thousand 
deaths; and my sufferings will not be over while I am able to think of my 
dear, murdered wife. O ! O ! my heart, be still, be still ! ” 

“ O ! my dear father,” said Emma, with flowing eyes, “ if I could but 
see you happy again, all my earthly joys would be complete. O! do 
shake off your load of woe, and look with calm resignation on your 
Qase.” 

The time for repose arrived, and Mr. Blackwood retired. 

“ Father,” said Emma, with a tremulous voice, “ dear mother and I 
used — to — pray together ; but — but now she is gone — I have no one to 
ray with me, — and I feel strange when — I pray alone.” 

9 — 


130 


EMMA MORTON. 


Her tearful eyes and faltering voice melted her father down into a 
childlike simplicity and humility, and he said : 

“ O! my saint-like daughter, let me join with you in your heavenly 
devotions. I know you are not a hypocrite, and I believe your prayers 
will do me good.” 

“ Let us pray, then,” she said ; and then offered up that ‘ effectual, 
fervent prayer, that availeth much ; ’ and as she closed her father re- 
sponded a heartfelt amen, and then they retired to rest. 

As a saint confiding in the word of God, she slept soundly, but not so 
her father. He had neglected God and his holy word, and had no sure 
refuge in the time of trouble. But his daughter’s prayer touched a dor- 
mant chord in his harp of thought, and gave a new hope to his sorrowing 
heart, which led him to think of the ‘ new and living way ’ that leads to 
joys on high. He slept but little through the night, and arose in the 
morning absorbed in thought. 

“ Dear father,” said Emma, “ are you well, this morning ? ” 

“ Yes,” said he ; “ but you prayed last night that I might know my sins 
were forgiven, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Now, Em, I 
have heard people talk about these things as though they were in that 
happy state of mind, but I always thought that they were either deluded 
or hypocritical persons. But I know that you have too much good sense 
to be deluded, and too much honesty of heart to attempt to deceive me ; 
and I will now ask you one question, or rather, two questions. First, do 
you know that you are in that happy state of mind ? ” 

“ I do, my father,” she replied ; “ as well as I know that I am in ex- 
istence, and have no more doubt of the one than I have of the other. 
The one is the life of the body, and the other is the life of the soul.” 

Looking at her with astonishment, he said : 

“ Do you believe, Em, that it is possible for me to attain to that happy 
state of mind ? ” 

“ I do, dear father,” she replied ; ‘‘ and if you will take the Bible for 
your guide, I will insure you that you will enjoy it, and that as soon as 
you believe with all your heart that its teachings are true.” 

‘‘ Enough, enough, my dear angel,” said her father ; and after looking 
on her with admiration for a few moments, he added : “ I now see, my 
dear, how it is that you can bear this great affliction with so much resig- 
nation ; and may the God of Heaven help me to imitate your happy ex- * 
ample.” ^ 

The morning of Morton’s trial drew crowds of spectators to the Court 
house' at an early hour, and the sympathies of the people were strongly 
in his favor. But still many of the liquor party were anxious for his 


EMMA MORTON. 


131 


condemnation. They saw that the death of Mrs. Morton, whom all loved 
that knew her, was attributed more to the evil system of liquor selling 
than it was to Morton, and that it was spreading a powerful influence 
against it, and how to oppose it they could not decide. But believing that 
if he were saved he would exert a greater power against them than ever 
he did, they finally deemed it better to throw all their weight in favor of 
his condemnation. And the officers of the Court being of the liquor party, 
as most all the officers of the whole country, to the disgrace of the peo- 
ple, generally are, they were enabled to prepare all the machinery of the 
Court to suit their purposes. Immediately after Judge B. took his seat 
on the bench, Morton, with the proper officers on his side, followed by 
Mrs. Moore, Emma and Mary, who were supported by Mr. Moore, 
Blackwood, Roper and O’Brien, entered the Court room. A deep sigh 
simultaneously moved the breast of the gazing spectators, as the prisoner 
was conducted to the bar, and the witnesses to the witness box. The 
Judge, with a sympathetic countenance, stepped from the bench, and in 
a soothing manner gave his hand to the ladies. Their deep mourning 
attire seemed to cause him pain ; and after tendering his consoling sympa- 
thies, and expressing his sorrow on seeing his acquaintances so painfully 
situated, he resumed his seat. 

The Attorney for the State, ordered the indictment read. It charged 
Morton with murder ; to which the plea of not guilty was entered, and 
the prisoner’s readiness for trial announced. The pannel was then 
called ; a large majority of whom were friends of alcohol, and but four 
of them were accepted as impartial jurors. Talesmen w’ere then sum-^ 
moned 5 and after a great deal of delay and difficulty a jury was selected, 
and the trial progressed. The examination of all the witnesses we will 
pass by, except Emma. When she was called to the stand, she drew a 
deep sigh, and with flowing tears said, in a low voice : 

“ O ! my God, support me ; ” and while she paused, the Judge said, 
soothingly : 

‘‘ Compose yourself, my dear Emma; you are among your friends.” 

His words were ‘‘ like the gentle dews of Heaven upon the place be- 
neath,” and she advanced to a- chair provided for her at the witnesses’ 
stand, amidst a buzz of whispers and sighs from the vast concourse of 
spectators that surrounded her. 

“ Be seated. Miss Morton,” said Mr. Sanford. After which, she 
gave in her testimony in a clear, precise and impartial manner, though 
modesty and sorrow were blended in every word she uttered. When 
the testimony was closed, Mr. Sanford, with an appropriate exordium, 
opened his speech to the jury, and solicited their close attention to the 


132 


EMMA MORTON. 


peculiar case they were trying : “ For, gentlemen,” said he, “ in defend- 
ing my client I intend to present and contend for a new principle in our 
jurisprudence ; or, perhaps it would be more applicable to say, that I 
intend to present and contend for a change of an old principle in our 
jurisprudence. We stand here, gentlemen, charged with the awful 
crime of murder, which is described by Sir Edward Coke to be, ‘When 
a person of sound memory and discretion unlawfully killeth any reason- 
able creature, in being, under the King’s peace, with a malice afore- 
thought, either expressed or implied ; ’ and to this definition all the 
^Courts of this country adhere. And now, gentlemen, according to this 
definition there were three things wanting in Morton, at the time he 
struck his wife, to make the act murder, to wit; A sound memory; 
discretion ; and malice aforethought.” He then cited the testimony of 
the various witnesses, all of whom sustained his position. “Now, gen- 
tlemen of the jury,” said he, “ the old principle of our jurisprudence, 
‘which I believe humanity and common justice both say ought to be 
'^hanged, is that a derangement of intellect, such as has been shown 
in this case, should be as good an excuse for acts committed under it, as 
a derangement of any other sort whatever. And how it has happened 
that the laws of a country keep in use, aye, and protect a thing to make 
people insane, and then punish them for acts they commit, while that in- 
sanity is upon them ; and, at the same time excuse acts committed under 
any other species of derangement of intellect; I cannot conceive. I be- 
lieve it is a problem beyond the power of sophistry itself to solve.” He 
then argued the point with great ability, and ridiculed the inconsistent 
and barbarous principle that punished a man for doing an act when his 
mind was so impaired that he knew not what he was about. 

“ In this enlightened age and country, gentlemen,” said he, “ it is our 
duty to let this barbarous relic of tyrannical darkness have a place among 
the things that wercj and no longer retain it in the jurisprudence of an 
enlightened and humane people. I know, gentlemen, that the State’s 
Attorney will gainsay the doctrine I have advanced ; but I fear not all 
the subtle inconsistencies of law that he can produce, for I know that 
I am addressing a jury of good common sense matter of fact men, of a 
free country, in whose hands the life of my client is now suspended, and 
who I am confident will not destroy that life in compliance with any fic- 
tion of law. But it is the business of the gentleman to do this, and 
claim a verdict at your hands; and, can you, gentlemen, say, that Thomas 
J. Morton is a murderer, because, while in a state of derangement, 
brought on under the circumstances here detailed, he, to his own grief 
and sorrow, killed her whom he loved better than any object on earth, 


EMMA MOKTON. 


133 


when, at the same time, the laws of our land license, and keep in our 
midst the horrid means by which he was deranged ! ! God forbid such 
cruelty. O ! gentlemen, let it not again be told in Maine, or published 
in America, that our laws license men to make us insane, and then punish 
us for acts we do while thus deprived of reason.” In his peroration he 
summed up the facts and arguments in the case in a masterly manner, and 
then with an eloquent appeal to the jury, relative to the peculiar suffer- 
ing in the family of the prisoner, he closed, and took his seat, under the 
approving smiles of the admiring assembly. The State’s Attorney fol- 
lowed in a speech of considerable length; and, after he closed, Morton 
was permitted to make some remarks to the jury. 

“ Gentlemen of the jury,’’ said he, with a faltering voice and sorrow- 
stricken countenance ; “ that one of the best women in the world has 
been slain, this aching heart of mine tells me is most true. But before 
my God, and before you and this vast assembly, I say that it was impos- 
sible for me to prevent the awful calamity under the circumstances by 
which I was surrounded ; and I would rather have suffered death than 
knowingly have injured one of the best wives that ever lived. But gen- 
tlemen, as the witnesses have proven, I was surrounded by temptations to 
drink, that no man could resist; and under the influence of that accursed 
liquid, I did an act which has almost broken my heart, and forever 
blighted all my earthly hopes and joys. I do not make these remarks 
to influence your minds in making up your verdict, for I have no desire 
to live now. I have but one being on earth to love, or to love me, and 
to her my life would, could be nothing but disgrace — and — bear with me 
gentlemen — I am — I have been — 0 ! God, yes, I have been a father. I 
make these remarks, gentlemen, for the purpose of letting you see by 
what a slender thread our liberty hangs, while alcohol is permitted to 
drench the land with tears and blood. You have wives, gentlemen, aye, 
and children too. Your laws protect them from the wild beasts and the 
savages of the forest, but leave them unprotected from strong drink and 
the fiends who may choose to employ it to blight a;ll your friends, or 
even yourselves, as they have me. There is no guaranty for the hap- 
piness of any family, while alcohol is drank among us. YoU all see 
this fact standing out to view every day. Every family has felt its aw- 
ful effects ; and will you still close your eyes and stop your ears to all 
the miseries of this cruel scourge of man ? Moral suasion can do no 
more. The arm of law, strengthened by an indignant people, at the 
ballot box, is the only thing that can now protect you from this deadly 
foe. O ! gentlemen, reflect, and act wisely, before it pierces your souls 
like it has mine, with the sorrows of death. O ! O ! God, have mercy.” 


134 


EMMA MORTON. 


Overcome with anguish, he sat down, while sobs were heard in every 
part of the Court-room. 

The jury retired, and were soon divided, one half being in favor of 
acquitting the prisoner, and the other in favor of man-slaughter ; and, 
after hanging in this manner for several days, they were discharged, and 
the case adjourned to the next term. 

Blackwood having received several letters from his father, urging 
him home on pressing business, left his two deeply afflicted friends, with 
an assurance that he would return again as soon as practicable. The 
day after he departed, Morton was taken very ill. Medical aid was re- 
sorted to, but it gave no relief. In the evening he requested Emma to 
read the fifteenth chapter of first Corinthians for him 5 and after she had 
read it, he said : 

“ O ! my dear child, what an inestimable blessing to my sorrow-bur- 
dened soul, has been the prayer you offered up to God in my behalf, the 
night before my trial. It led me to read my Bible ; and that, by the aid 
of your instruction, and subsequent prayers, has led me to find rest in 
Christ Jesus, my Lord.” As he said this, his heart filled up with joy, 
and he choked, while tears flowed down his cheeks ; and, for a few mo- 
ments, Mr. Moore and his wife, and Emma and her suffering father, 
seemed to enjoy the communion of saints. 

“ I believe, my Em,” said her father at last, “ I shall not be long with 
you. My overpowering troubles, I think, will soon end. This disease 
lies right at my heart. But, O ! what will become of you, thus cast 
penniless upon the cold charity of the world?” 

‘‘ O ! dear father,” said Emma, ‘-grieve not about me. You know 
that that God in whom you now trust has said, ‘ I will be a father to the 
fatherless,’ and I believe his word, and I want you to believe it too. 
And let not my future welfare trouble your mind while your body is 
suffering so much pain.” She paused and filled up with tears, as she 
added ! “ O ! dear father, it will be painful for me to part with you, but 
I hope to be resigned to the will of God ; and, take comfort in the glo- 
rious prospect of meeting you and dear mother in Heaven.” 

“ I do not believe that poor Morton will survive many days ; ” said 
Mr. Moore to his wife, as they were walking home , “ and, I believe 
I had better let him know at once the purpprt of our uncle’s will.” 

“ I would, by all means ; for it will be a great relief to his mind to 
know that Emma is so well provided for,” replied his wife. 

“Well, I will see him early in the morning 5 and if he is no better, I 
will let him know it,” said her husband. In the morning, Mr. Moore 
called early on Mr. Morton, and inquired how he was. 


EMMA MORTON. 


135 


“ O ! my dear friend,*’ said Morton, “ I think I have but a short time 
to live ; and, all I can now do for my dear orphan girl is to beg you to 
protect her as far as you can from the evils by which I shall soon leave 
her surrounded.” 

“ I will do that,” said Mr. Moore, “ as carefully as 1 would if she 
were my own child ; and further, to relieve your mind, I am glad to in- 
form you that Emma is abundantly provided for.” 

“ How ? ” said Morton, flushing with surprise. 

‘‘ Calm yourself,” said Moore ; “ and I will unfold the mystery of the 
Old Gentleman that visited you in New York.’’ 

“ Go, on,” said Morton ; “ I’ll be calm.” 

“ Your mother,” said Moore, “ was a native of Maine, and had an el- 
der and a younger brother, who loved her dearly. Their parents died 
when the elder had just arrived to manhood ; and he assumed the head 
of the family and prospered. The younger brother soon married 
and left your elder uncle and mother together. A few years after, 
your father became acquainted with your mother ; and contrary to your 
uncle’s wishes, she married him ; and your uncle was so enraged at her 
for doing so, that he swore he would never see her again, or even speak 
to one of her children. After this, your uncle went to the West, where 
he accumulated a great fortune ; and while on a visit to New York, in 
presence of his younger brother, purchased in your name the house and 
lot, and furniture which were in the use of your parents when they 
died; and having learned by correspondence that they were advertised 
for sale, he requested your younger uncle to attend and see that you ob- 
tained your rights, which you know the Old Gentleman did. And after- 
wards he returned to Maine, and bought and improved the farm on 
which you have been residing ; and when he heard of the destruction of 
your hotel, he prevailed on me to visit you in disguise, and induce you 
to come and settle on the farm. Since you have been in Maine, he has 
been living with his younger brother in pretty good health, until with- 
in a few months since, his great age rendered him very feeble, and 
the third day after you were brought here, I received a letter announ- 
cing his death, and inclosing his last will, in which he has bequeathed 
to you and your heirs forever, one half of his vast possessions, which 
will amount to near one hundred thousand dollars, a considerable part 
of which is in ready money deposited in safe institutions.” 

O ! what a wonderful Providence has attended my wayward steps,” 
said Morton. “ And O! how grateful I feel to Almighty God, to know, 
in my last moments, that my dear child can live above the charity of a 
selfish world. O ! my daughter,” he added, turning to Emma, and fold- 


136 


EMMA MORTON. 


ing his arms around her, “ you can dry up many tears, and solace many 
hearts with your worldly goods, and still have enough for yourself.” 

“ Aye, father,” replied his daughter ; and there is no way in which 
I can dry up so many tears, and solace so many hearts, as I can by dry- 
ing up the fountains of alcohol. I feel it. I know it. And I now 
promise that I will make every effort in my power to save my fellow 
creatures from its untold woes.” 

Mr. Morton w^as now attacked with a severe fit of coughing and 
spitting of blood, which soon rendered him so weak that silence and 
stillness became necessary. Roper and O’Brien came in and assisted 
Emma in nursing her father through the day, and in the evening her 
father and her friends prevailed on her at a late hour to seek repose. 
The next morning when she visited him, he could merely say a few 
words in a low breath : and taking her hand in his, he pressed it to his 
breast, and said : ‘‘ Farewell — I am happy — meet me in Heaven.” 

And while his weeping daughter covered his pale cheeks with her 
tears and kisses, his pulse beat for the last time. She pressed her 
quivering lips hard upon the lifeless clay ; and then with a mighty effort 
recovering herself, she said : “ Farewell, father ! farewell, mother ! your 
once light-hearted, happy Em, has neither now. They are slain. Aye, 
slain by the misguided voters of my country. O ! God, hear the pray- 
er of a poor weak, female, orphan, in behalf of the mothers, wives, 
daughters and sisters of America; and do thou influence their husbands, 
fathers, sons, and brothers to vote for such men as will make laws to 
protect us from the ravages of alcohol;” and then throwing herself on 
a chair, she sat entranced in thought. Mr. Moore offered her all the 
consolation he could ; and took her home with him, leaving the corpse 
with O’Brien and Roper to be prepared for interment. The funeral 
next day, which was numerously attended, created a strong sensation in 
the community against the liquor trade ; and many resolved that they 
never again would support any man for office who was in favor of it. 
Emma now a bereaved orphan accepted the proposition of Mrs. Moore 
to make her house her future home, where we must leave her for a 
while, to notice some of the other characters connected with her history. 


EMMA MORTON. 


137 


CHAPTER XIX. 

ROPER AND o’bRIEN LECTURE ON tRMPERANCE BLACKVvOOD GOES TO 

VERA CRUZ — HOLLAND APPREHENDED FOR MURDERING EMMA — BLACK- 
WOOD RESCUED. 

Roper and O’Brien, under the support and patronage of Emma, took 
the field in opposition to the liquor trade, with a resolution not to‘ cease 
their efforts until the State was redeemed and purified from its blighting 
effects. 

General Jarvis, after his signal defeat in the election, used the bottle 
more freely than ever, w'hich threw him into a fit of delirium tremens, 
and closed his worse than useless life. 

Deacon Doughface had a severe spell of sickness.; during which he 
suffered greatly in his feelings, for the part he had taken in favor of the 
liquor trade, which he knew had been so fatal in the family of Mr. 
Morton. And when he recovered, he assumed a firm stand in opposi- 
tion to his former conduct, and labored hard to make amends for the 
evils he had assisted to produce, and publicly spoke against liquor. 

Holland, after being thrust in disgrace from the presence of Mr. Mor- 
ton and his daughter, with vows of vengeance against Roper and Emma, 
fled to his refuge in his father’s distillery, to form new plans of villainy. 

Mr. Blackwood on reaching home shuddered at the proposition of his 
father to proceed immediately to Vera Cruz. 

‘‘ Why, my dear father,” said he, “ I should consider myself the most 
cruel man in the world, were I thus to desert the unfortunate Emma, in 
her day of trial. I am bound by both honor and gratitude to return to her 
as soon as practicable.” 

“ So you may, my son,” said his father ; “ but if she is the sensible, 
and amiable being you say she is, she will excuse your going to Vera 
Cruz, when she learns the vast amount of interest we have at stake 
there, which may be lost unless you go to attend to it. And now, 
George, I wish you to bear in mind, that my interests are your interests ; 
and if you neglect to haste to attend to them in that city, I run a great 
risk of being totally ruined. And now, I will promise you that if you 
will comply with my wishes, when you return I will waive all my oppo- 
sition to your union with Emma, and receive her into our family as my 
own daughter. 

George paused in thought for a few moments, and then said : 

“ Nothing on earth, dear father, could tempt me stronger than that 


138 


EMMA MOKTON. 


promise; and for a life of happiness, I consent to endure a year, proba- 
bly, of misery.” 

“ Then haste,” said his father, “ to our partners in New York; all 
things are there in readiness for your departure.” 

George, in haste, wrote a few lines to Emma, informing her of his in- 
tended visit to Vera Cruz, and apologizing for his unexpected absence, 
and then commenced his journey. 

Emma received the letter the day after her father’s funeral ; and the 
hope that she soon would have the pleasure of seeing him again, was 
completely destroyed. She pondered over the letter, and recounted her 
joys and sorrows, and thought of her friends until the detestable image of 
Holland appeared to her mind. Aroused by the thought of him, she 
paced her chamber floor in deep meditation. At length, she said to her- 
self — 

‘‘ I fear that wicked, cunning wretch, for I believe he will seek to de- 
stroy me ; and although Mr. and Mrs. Moore are very kind to me, they 
may not be able to protect me from his wiles. I wish George had taken 
me to his father’s before he went to Vera Cruz. O! he may die there, 
and I shall never see him again. Or he may — may — O ! no, I believe he 
loves me too well to let another share his affections.” In distress she 
threw herself on her bed and wept for a while ; and then the thought of 
Holland again came to her mind, and she arose up on the bed, and said : 

“ O ! that villain! I do fear him above all things in this world.” 

On a clear afternoon, about two weeks after she had received a letter 
from Blackwood, dated at Vera Cruz, Emma came down stairs dressed 
for a walk. 

“ Where are you going, my dear? ” said Mrs. Moore. 

“ Why, I thought I would take a little walk this fine afternoon,” said 
Emma, ‘‘ and amuse myself in the open air, awhile; for really I begin to 
feel the need of exercise.” 

“Well, Em,” said Mrs. Moore, “I think it will do you -good, but 
take care of yourself, and don’t stay long.” 

“ I thank you, madam,” said Emma, as she stepped out of the door, and 
then she strolled along towards her once happy home on the farm, seem- 
ingly unconscious of the ground which bore her weight. Hours passed 
ofi*, and Mrs. Moore began to think that Emma had called on some ac- 
quaintance, and over-stayed her time ; and at last she asked her husband 
if he thought any accident could have befallen her. 

“ O, no,” said Mr. Moore; “I suppose she will soon be home.” 

Night came, and still Emma had not returned ; night passed off, and 
morning came, and after diligent inquiry no tidings could be obtained of 


EMMA MORTON. 


139 


the absent girl. The whole town was soon aroused, and the name of 
Emma Morton was heard on every street. A lad, on hearing the name 
mentioned by Mrs. Moore, with tears in her eyes, thought it was the 
one he had on a handkerchief, he had in his pocket, and he stopped and 
took it out, and asked her if she knew whose it was. She took it, and 
with a scream called her husband, and said : 

“ 0 ! my dear, I fear our poor Em is killed — here is her handker- 
chief stained with blood.” 

“ Good Heavens,” said Mr. Moore ; “where did you get it from? ” 

“ This lad brought it to me,” she replied. 

“ Where did you get it from, my lad ? ” said Moore. 

“ I saw Mr. Holland throw it away ; and I went and looked at it, and 
thought it too good to be lost, and I thought I would take care of it,” 
said the lad. 

“ W’^here did he throw it? ” inquired Moore. 

“Among a clump of bushes in Mr. Deen’s pasture,” replied the lad. 

“And are ypu sure it was Holland ? ” asked Moore. 

“ Yes, sir,” said the lad; “ the same Mr. Holland that I used to see 
in your house.” 

“Enough; come -with me, m^ lad,” said Moore: and went immediately 
to an officer of justice, and caused pursuit to be made forthwith for 
Holland. The officer soon got on his trail, and overtook him on his road 
home and brought him back. Like a condemned criminal he declared his 
innocence ; but it being proven by the lad that he threw the bloody hand- 
kerchief away, and, by a man that he passed Emma in the road near 
the brook that run through Mr. Deen’s pasture, and that just after he 
passed her, he saw Holland come out of the woods, and heard him speak, 
and afterwards heard her speak pretty loudly to him, the proof of his 
guilt seemed so strong that he was committed for trial. 

Search and inquiry was made in every direction, but no further clew to 
Emma’s mysterious disappearance could be obtained; and the newspapers 
published the brutal murder of Emma Morton, committed by Henry H. 
Holland, who was in prison for the crime. Strong efforts were made to 
bail him, but in addition to the testimony already heard, O’Brien came 
home from a lecturing tour, and testified that Holland met him as he was 
going into prison to see Mr. Morton, and swore that he would be re- 
venged on Emma for spurning him from her. After this, there was no 
longer any doubt on the public mind of his guilt, and the populace be- 
came much incensed agsinst him. 

When Court set, his counsel advised him to have his cause continued 
to the next term, in order that the public indignation, might, if possible, 


140 


EMMA MORTON 


subside ; to which he finally assented, and thus prolonged his prison 
sufferings. 

Blackwood arrived at V era Cruz a few days after General Scott had 
marched for the city of Mexico ; and he soon learned that his mission 
was likely to prove very troublesome. He applied himself with all his 
skill to his arduous duties, with the hope that he would soon be able to 
return to Emma and leave her no more. With this hope animating his 
heart, he took up a paper from the State of Maine, one evening, after he 
had closed his daily toil ; and glancing his eyes hastily over its columns, 
he caught sight of the account of Emma’s fate, and Holland’s impris- 
onment for murdering her. His heart swelled and sickened, and for a 
few moments, he could barely keep from fainting. After recovering suf- 
ficiently to rise, he retired to his room, and remained there all next day, 
lamenting his journey to Vera Cruz, and the consequent death of his be- 
loved Emma. The second day after he saw the sad notice, he endeav- 
ored to resume his business ; in the arrangement of which he found that 
he would have to take a journey to a small town some fifty miles in the 
interior, He accordingly made the necessary preparations, and with his 
Mexican guide proceeded to the town, and collected several thousand 
dollars in about two days, which his guide saw him put in his valise. 
Blackwood thought he had done wrong in letting the fellow see the mon- 
ey ; and that all he could then do would be to watch him closely. The 
fellow soon went out and he saw nothing more of him until he was ready 
to start on his return to Vera Cruz, the next morning. He set out ear- 
ly with his guide in front, so that he could observe his movements, ho- 
ping to reach the end of his journey before night. And after traveling 
a little more than half his road, keeping his guide always in front to pre- 
vent treachery, three Mexicans swept across the track behind him, and 
threw a lasso. Blackwood saw it and raised his arm towards it from his 
neck, but the fatal noose caught his arm and neck together and he ex- 
claimed, “ O ! my God.” At that moment a rifle cracked, and he saw 
the horse which bore the lasso fall to the earth, just as he was dragged 
from his saddle, and heard a voice exclaim in the Spanish tongue, 
“ Come on, boys ! here’s the rascals ! we’ll have them now ; ” on which 
the robbers fled with precipitation, and the guide seized the valise 
containing the money and started off with it ; but a pistol bullet shivered 
his arm, and the valise dropped from his hand, and he fled with it dan- 
gling by his side, like a limber cord. The next moment Blackwood 
found the lasso cut from his neck, and springing to his feet with fear 
and joy, and almost choked, he said : 

My brave deliverer, I first thank you for my Kfe ; and then in the 


EMMA MORTON. 


141 


name of Heaven beg to know to whom I am indebted for its miraculous 
preservation.” 

“ Why, to God, I reckon,” replied a stranger dressed in a Mexican 
hunting dress, with a short rifle in one hand, and a dirk knife in the 
other. 

“ I believe, my dear sir, that you are right in that; but I beg to know 
the nobl^ instrument he used to save my life,” said Blackwood. 

“ Why, stranger, it was this little rifle ; here you can look at it if 
you please,” said the hunter. 

‘‘ My noble friend,^’ said Blackwood, “ you do not seem to understand 
my questions. I wish to know your name and nation, and wherefore 
you are thus alone among these cut-throats.” 

“ O ! I reckon I can soon tell you all that. I am known in this 
range as Harry Herbert, of Old Kentuck ; and I have strayed over here 
just to see how our boys come on,” said Herbert, while loading his ri- 
fle ; “ and now I have answered your questions, and loaded my rifle. I’ll 
bid you good-day, and mount my nag.” 

“ Stay, stay, my dear friend,” said Blackwood ; “ and don’t leave me 
thus alone. Go with me, and let us become better acquainted.” 

“ Well, I don’t care much which way I go, here, for all things are 
new to me ; and if you’ll wait till I get my nag, I reckon I’ll ride with 
you,” said Herbert. 

“ Certainly, I will,” said Blackwood. 

Herbert was soon ready ; and they proceeded towards Vera Cruz at a 
pretty fast gait. 

“ Now, my dear sir,” said Blackwood, “ while we are riding togeth- 
er, I beg you to inform me what led you so timely to my rescue, and 
how you so successfully effected it.” 

“ Well, I reckon, sir — but as I have told you what to call me I reckon 
it would fit better if you’d tell me what to call you,” said Herbert. 

‘‘ My name,” said his comrade, “ is Blackwood, sir.” 

“ Well, Mr. Blackwood,” said Herbert, “ I thought this morning that 
I would ride out and take a peep at the Mexikin hunting grounds, and 
while I was riding along I heard your voice and the sound of your hor- 
se’s feet, and I thought it would be as well as not for me to turn into the 
bushes and dismount. I had hardly hitched my nag, when I saw three 
rascals dash along across behind you, and one of them throw the lasso, 
and I turned little Betty to shoot him ; but before I pulled her off, the 
thought struck me that as the lasso was hitched to the horse, I had bet- 
ter shoot it, so I lowered little Bet’s mouth a little, and made her spit, 
and the horse and yourself both fell together, and then to scare the 


142 


EMMA MORTON. 


scoundrels, I hollered out in the Spanish language, ‘Come on, boys, 
here’s the rascals ; we’ll have them now : ’ and they took off as fast as 
their trotters could carry them, and the feller that was with you jerked 
off your leather wallet, and was goine off with it ; and I thought he had 
no right to do so, and just out Bet’s baby, and let him have a ball from 
that in his arm, and your wallet dropped from his hand ; and he rode off 
with it dangling like a rag by his side. I then run up and cut the lasso 
from your neck, and that’s all.” 

“ And enough to gain my everlasting love and gratitude,” said Black- 
wood ; “ and for your noble bravery I now claim you as my brother , and 
with you I will share the fortune of a rich man’s only child. You must 
now go home with me, and spend your days.” 

“Well, at present, I don’t care much where I go,” said Herbert; 
“but I don’t feel willing to take so much of your fortune. Howsom- 
ever. I’ll stop with you a while here in Vera' Cruz.” Thus they talked 
along the road, and reached their place of destination a little before sun- 
set ; and after taking supper, and spending some hours together, with a 
couple of Blackwood’s friends, to whom he had introduced Herbert, and 
related his wonderful exploits, they retired to rest. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE DISCOVERY. 

The next evening Blackwood went into Herbert’s room, and while 
they were talking, Herbert noticed more particularly the melancholy 
state of his mind, and at last he said : 

“ Why, friend Blackwood, do you always seem so sorrowful. If I 
knowed what troubled you, I would try to help you; suppose you tell 
me. If you wish me to, I will keep it a secret.” 

“ My good friend,” said Blackwood, ‘'the cause of my grief is no se- 
cret — and I will let you know it. For several years I have loved, 
dearly loved, one of the best creatures that God ever made ; but, owing 
to my father’s opposition to our union, I have never asked her to be my 
wife, although, for years, we both have loved sincerely. Just before I 
left home, my father promised if I would come here and settle his busi- 
ness, that on my return he would consent to our union, and receive my 


EMMA MORTON. 


143 


bride as his only daughter. I consented, and with a bright hope of re- 
turning soon to claim his promise, I came to this hateful city. But, O ! 
Herbert, what do you think my feelings were, when a few days ago I 
saw the murder of Emma Morton, the object of my love, announced in 
the newspapers : ” Here he paused, and wiped the tears from his eyes ; 
and Herbert turned pale and trembled like one alarmed. Blackwood no- 
ticed him, and then added: “and that her murderer, a scoundrel that, I 
knew, by the name of Holland, was in prison charged with the crime.” 

“ Ha! ” said Herbert with surprise and seeming joy ; “the wretch, he 
ought to be hung.” 

“ Aye, a thousand times over,” said Blackwood. Herbert then be- 
came silent and agitated for some moments ; and after he had with great 
effort composed himself, he said : 

“My dear sir, I hope you will not let it grieve you so. I have of- 
ten heard my daddy say, there was as good fish in the sea as there was 
ever caught out on it, and I sorter think its true.” 

“ O ! Herbert, it may be so,” said Blackwood; “but I fear I shall not 
realize it.” 

“O, well! we should always live in hope,” said Herbert, rising and 
taking a bottle out of his trunk ; “ and now,” be added, “ here is a little 
of good old Kentuck whisky, and here’s some good water ; come, let’s 
take a horn, by way of keeping our spirits up.” 

Blackwood looked at him with commingled feelings of love and re- 
gret, and said : 

“ O ! Herbert, throw that poison away and then, with tears in his 
eyes, he added : “ That has been the cause of all my sorrows. O ! 
touch it not, or probably it will sting your heart as it has mine.” 

Herbert hung down his head in silence, and neither spoke for several 
minutes. At last Herbert, seeming to spring into new life, said : 

“ May not one drink it occasionally, without being hurt by it ? ” 

“ No, my dear Herbert,” replied Blackwood, emphatically, “ unless it 
is prepared with drugs as a medicine, and then it should be taken but 
seldom.” 

“ Why ! hokey ! Many families in Kentuck think they cannot live 
without it ; and, although I don’t like it much, and I have not tasted a 
drop of any sort of liquor since I left home ; yet, I thought it would do 
me no harm to keep a bottle full in my trunk, just to raise one’s spirits 
when they get low ; and would not, now, a horn with me do you good?” 

“ Herbert, said Blackwood, earnestly, “ I believe your intentions are 
good, but I know your advice is bad ; and, I would not taste a drop of 
that destructive liquor for all the wealth in Christendom. I have been a 


144 


EMMA MORTON. 


slave to it once in my boyish days, and one drink now, might make me a 
slave to it again. It was the kindness of my beloved Emma, that called 
me to a sober life; and were I to resume the accursed cup, I should not 
only consider myself a suicide, but an offender of her sainted spirit. 
Why ! hold dear Herbert, you weep. Why these scalding tears, my 
friend?” 

“ O, sir!” replied Herbert, ‘‘you spoke so sorrowful, and your tvords 
made me think of things gone by, so closely, that I could not help shed- 
ding a few tears.” 

“ Have you been made to suffer by alcohol?” said Blackwood. 

“If you mean liquor, that makes people drunk, by the word alcohol, 
then, indeed sir, I have, and seen others suffer by it too ; but the people 
said my sufferings was caused by the abuse of it, and not by the proper 
use of it.” 

“ Ah ! my dear sir,” said Blackwood, “ there lies the great error. 
People have thought that the use of it was to drink it in moderation, but 
it is now clearly seen, that not one in a hundred can drink it without 
soon becoming drunkards ; and this fact, in my estimation, is proof pos- 
itive, that every time it is taken as a beverage, it is abused ; and, there- 
fore, our only safe course is never to drink it at all. And if all would 
follow that rule, we should be exempt from nine-tenths of the accidents 
and sufferings we now have to endure.” 

“ Well, I have thought so, too,” replied Herbert ; “ though the people 
said it was right to drink moderately. But, somehow, I never could 
bleeve them fully, although some of them war preachers ; because, I 
always saw when they took one horn to raise thar spirits, they soon 
wanted another to raise them higher, and then another, and another, tell 
they got thar spirits so high that they did not know what they war 
about.” 

“ That is pretty true, Herbert,” said Blackwood. 

“It’s as true, sir,” said Herbert, “ as granmammy’s prayer-book. I saw 
it acted out on the boat that blowed me up, when I came down the Miss- 
issip.” 

“ Why, were you blown up ; how did that happen ? ” inquired Black- 
wood, anxiously. 

“ Well, you see,” said Herbert, “just as we was putting out from 
Cairo, at the mouth of the Ohio, down comes a boat, down the Mississip, 
and our mate cried out to our Cap’n, and says he — 

‘ That’s the d — d boat that raced us so hard on our last trip; now let’s 
beat her, Cap’n.’ 

‘ O, let her go,’ says the Cap’n, in a careless way. 


EMMA MO ETON. 


145 


‘O, let’s give her a chase, Cap’n,’ cried the pilot ; ‘I know we can 
beat her.’ 

‘ It’s not worth while,’ says the Cap’n ; ‘ 1 think we have too much 
load in, and I bleeve we will not undertake it.’ 

“ I was glad to hear the Cap’n say that ; for I had heard that many ac- 
cidents happened by racing, and I thought the Cap’n wasn’t agoin to do 
it, and I begun to think about other things. But presently I sees him 
step up to the bar and take a big horn of brandy, and then go out and talk 
with the mate and pilot for a while, and I seed them look a good deal a^ 
the other boat, which was a little ways behind us ; and then the Cap’n 
come down and took another horn, and then he talked with the Clark 
awhile, in the office, and afterwards walked out. I followed him, for I 
was very much afeered that his spirits was high enough to run a race ; 
and I soon found that what I feered was true, for I beared him tell the 
firemen to fire up lively, and then he went and talked to the engineman, 
and I thought I heard him say that he did not think the bilers safe for a 
race, and the Cap’n said : 

‘ O ! d — n the odds. I’ll send you down some grog ;’ and then he went 
to the bar-keeper, and ordered him to send some grog below for the offi- 
cers and hands. His orders was soon obeyed, and the officers and crew 
and bilers was soon under a high pressure of steam. 

‘‘ The other boat come booming on us, and every body seed that a full 
race had begun. Some of the passengers told the Cap’n that they did 
not like to risk the lives of themselves and families on a racing boat ; but 
he assured them thar was no danger, that his bilers and the other fixings 
was all good and strong, and that he would not raise steam higher than 
they would bear. By this sort of talk he soon got many of the passen- 
gers on his side; and in a short time all on board, exceptin them who had 
women or children with them, seemed to like the race as well as the 
Cap’n and his crew. And on we went, sometimes side by side the other 
boat, and spmetimes a little behind, and sometimes a little ahead of her. 
But at last the other boat stopped to wood, and we left her out of sight, 
and I hoped forever. But our Cap’n turned in to take on some plunder, 
and to wood, too ; and just as we was starting out, along comes our racer 
after us agin. I then wished I had left the boat when we stopped the 
last time, and waited for another, as I had a notion to do ; and I went to 
the Cap’n and asked him if he was agoin to race any more, and he said 
‘it was none of my business.’ 

‘ Well, indeed, Cap’n,’ says I, ‘ I think it is my business, for I do not 
feel safe here while you are racing, and I believe every body has a right 
to provide for thar own safety ; and ef you are going to race agin, I beg 
10 — 


146 


EMMA MORTON. 


you to be so good as to put me ashore,’ and several others said the same. 
But the Cap’n, who was about half drunk, turned on his heels and said : 

‘ I’ll jist do as I please, on my own boat ! ’ and then went and took 
another horn, and after that he went down to the mate. 

‘‘ The other boat by this time had got nearly up to us, and all hands on 
both boats was hurrawing and balling for victory. The bar was crowded 
all the time, and every body seemed to be nearly drunk. I got very 
much scared, and stepped out of the cabin to see how far we was from 
shore. The other boat was then about passing us, and I heard the mate 
say: 

— n her, she’ll beat us ! ’ 

‘ Throw in the rosom, boys,” says the Cap’n. 

At the last order I was wurs scared than ever, and went in to my state 
room to think over my danger. Sometimes I thought I heard the bilers 
burst, and felt the hot steam scalding me, and I cringed with the thoughts 
of the pain. And then looking on the pallate in my berth, and the cov- 
erin, I thought ef I would rap them around me they would keep off the 
hot water, and help me to float ef I should be blow^ed into the river. I 
W’^ent to work direckelty and put them round me, and sot down ; and as 
mammy told me, I called on God to take care of me, and save me from 
harm. After a while I felt our boat rounding to shore, and I looked out 
and saw a wood yard. We was most to shore, with our bough up the 
stream, when the bilers clapt thar fleues, and wdtli a dreadful noise I 
found myself flying through the ar for a moment, and then afloat on the 
water. I looked round, and it seemed like all natur was destroyed. The 
boat was torn to pieces, and the river was full of her plunder, and hu- 
man creatures ; and tlie ar was full of thar cries and groans. I fell in 
the river near the shore, and soon got safe to land without any hurt. I 
looked round then, and sich a sorrowful sight I hope I shall never see 
agin. Many was laying dead on the shore, and many was crying for 
help. The other boat turned back, and saved all she could, and when all 
had been saved that she could And, thar was many kilt and wounded, and 
a great many that had been on board could not be found at all ; sich a 
crowd of dead, dying, and living creatures as was thar got together, I 
never heard or thought of before. But what hurt me most was the cries 
of the poor children for their mammies and daddies, and the mammies 
and daddies for thar children. O ! Mr. Blackwood, I can’t tell you any 
more about it, for I feel too sorry when I think on it. And I raly think 
we must have a very weak government ef it cannot stop steamboats from 
carrying liquor to do so much harm. For I am sure that liquor caused 
that boat to blow up ; for ef the Cap’n hadn’t got liquor he would not 


EMMA MORTON. 


147 


agreed to run a race. And from what I seed thar, I bleeve that nearly 
all the accidents that happen on steamboats, is on account of liquor.” 

‘‘ There can be no doubt of that,” said Blackwood , “ and all the laws 
that Congress can pass, to regulate and prescribe the strength of boilers 
and boats will do no good, while the use of intoxicating liquors is per- 
mitted on board of them. It would be much better to have all liquors 
banished from them, and have the appetites of the officers examined, 
than it is to have the boilers examined and the pressure of steam pre- 
scribed ; and here, my dear Herbert, you see the evil effects of the first 
glass. If the Captain had not taken the first glass, all the destruction 
of property and the human misery you witnessed, would have been pre- 
vented. But that first glass lead to another and another, until death and 
destruction closed the awful scene. How important it is for us, then, to 
refrain from the first dangerous glass.” 

“ Well, I bleeve it is, and Pll never drink again,” said Herbert. He 
then took up his bottle and threw it out of the window, adding : ‘‘ Thar, 
you curse, go ; I’ll have nothing more to do with you.” 

“I rejoice at that,” said Blackwood ; “ and thank Heaven that you so 
happily escaped ; and now, as it has grown late, I wull now retire ; 
good night.” 

“ Good-night, sir,” said Herbert. 

One day, some time after the above conversation, as Herbert was 
walking in the street, he was attacked by two Mexicans, who mistook 
him for a man who had beaten one of them, and while they were tuss- 
ling, Blackwood rushed up and parted them; and in breaking the hold of 
one of the fellows, Herbert’s watch was exposed to view. He con- 
cealed it with haste and confusion, but not until Blackwood had seen it. 
Astonished, he said : 

‘‘ Herbert, let me look at that watch.” 

“ O ! ” said Herbert, ‘‘it is not worth looking at now. I’ll show it 
to you some other time.” 

Blackwood was completely bewildered. He knew the watch to be the 
one he gave to Emma when she was a little girl, and which he saw in 
her possession the last time he was with her ; and how Herbert came to 
have it he could not imagine, unless he were her murderer. What 
course to pursue he could not determine. To accuse his brave friend of 
the crime of murder, he thought he could never do ; and to let Holland 
suffer innocently, he could not ; and to let Emma’s murderer go unpun- 
ished when he had him in his power, was out of the question. Revolv- 
ing these thoughts in his mind, for the remainder of the day, he at last 
resolved that he would see Herbert at night, and ask for an explanation. 


148 


EMMA MORTON. 


When he went to the hotel, he feared that Herbert had fled, and went 
immediately to his room to see, and found him in his room, sitting with 
his rifle and pistol in his hands. With struggling emotions, he related 
to him the thoughts that had passed though his mind. Herbert turned 
first pale and then red, and rising from his seat, he said, confusedly : 

‘‘Is it possible, sir, that you think me bad enough to commit murder?” 

“ O ! Herbert,” said Blackwood, “ bear with me in my distracted 
state of mind, and under the imperious duties devolving on me. My 
Emma has been murdered ; a man is under the charge of her murder. 
I find you in the possession of her watch. Now my dear friend, shall I 
permit the innocent to suffer, or permit her death to pass unrevenged ? 
One of these must be the case should you be the guilty person ; or — ” 

“ Mr. Blackwood,” said Herbert, “ I declare that I am not guilty, and 
I must say I feel insulted by you for calling me a murderer.” 

“ O ! Herbert, I am most crazed ; bear with me : you have saved my 
life 5 but O ! what can I do ? Pardon me for my suspicions, and recol- 
lect that you have created them.” 

“ How have I created any suspicions against me? ” said Herbert. 

“ Why,” said Blackwood, “ when I was relating to you my sad story, 
you several times exhibited strong emotions, which greatly surprised 
me ; and, to-day, when I asked you to let me look at that watch which 
you have kept so closely concealed, you exhibited such tokens of confu- 
sion as to cause me to suspect something was wrong with you ; and 
now, as you cannot explain to me the manner or means by which you 
have gained possession of the watch, I feel it my bounden duty to have 
you arrested.” 

“ I have one way,” said Herbert, “ that I can satisfy you, if you will 
agree to it : but before I tell you, I wish you to call in our two friends 
that were here last night, and we will make our bargain before them ; 
and tell them I wish to be alone.” 

“ I will do so,” said Blackwood, and withdrew to call in their two 
friends. And, in a short time afterwards, in company with them, he 
repaired to Herbert’s door, and asked admittance. He invited them in, 
and they found him sitting down, covered with his cap and cloak, and 
a piece of old rag in his hand, rubbing his pistol. 

“ Well, friend Herbert,” said one of the friends, “are you for a walk 
to-night. I see you are prepared for it.” 

“ O, no ! ” said Herbert carelessly ; “you see, friend Blackwood here 
has accused me of murdering his sweetheart, and so I got ready to go 
to jail if he wants to take me there. That’s all.” 

Before Herbert made this remark, Blackwood thought that he was 


EMMA MOETON. 


149 


about to try to escape, and this added greatly to the suspicions of his 
guilt. But his utter indifference to the suspicions alledged against 
him, confounded and bewildered Blackwood so much that he scarcely 
knew what he said or did. But as well as he could, he explained the 
object for which he had called in his two friends ; and then turning to 
Herbert added : 

• . 

“ And now, my dear Herbert, if you can satisfy me of your inno- 
cence, I beg you for Heaven’s sake to do so as soon as possible, and ease 
my troubled mind.” 

“Well, sir,” said Herbert, his eyes flashing fire as he spoke, “the 
plan I propose to satisfy you on is for you to meet me to-morrow at sun- 
rise on the commons, with a pistol in your hand, and I’ll take anoth- 
er, and if I don’t convince you then and there that I never murdered 
your Emma, as you call her. I’ll suffer myself to be torn to pieces by 
wild cats.” 

“ O ! Herbert,” said Blackwood, in deep distress, “ I am opposed to 
duels from conscientious scruples ; and, beside, I believe the innocent is 
as likely to fall as the guilty : and I pray you for the sake of all that is 
sacred not to urge a duel for what I have said, for under no circumstan- 
ces can I engage in one without a risk of the hope I have of eterna 
salvation.” 

“ Well, now,” said Herbert, “I have a hope of eternal salvation as 
well as you, and perhaps, under the odd fix we are in, God will not 
punish us for doing the best we can to satisfy each other.” 

“ Well, I know, Herbert, that our case is a peculiar one, but still I 
cannot consent to fight a duel about it. I do not think that justice re- 
quires it of me,” said Blackwood, almost in a state of distraction. 

“You tarnal, mean coward,” said Herbert, with scorn; “you want 
the death of your sweetheart revenged, but hain’t the courage to revenge 
it. And, arter I have saved your cowardly life, you won’t allow me to 
prove my inersens, by risking that which God helped me to give you. 
And yit I suppose you think yourself worthy of the noble gal you say 
I’ve kilt ; and, perhaps if her ghost had power, it would come and hiss 
at you and call you coward, and — ” 

“Hold! hold! Herbert,” exclaimed Blackwood, “for God’s sake, tor- 
ture me no further ; I cannot bear it, neither can I consent to meet you 
as you propose. It would be a violation of God’s law and a breach of 
humanity in me so to do. And conscious I am that the sainted spirit of 
my virtuous Emma looks upon me and approves my conduct.” And then 
overcome with emotion he fell on Herbert’s bed and covered his face 
with his hands. Herbert rose, and staggered a Step or two towards him 


150 


EMMA MORTON. 


when in an instant the cloak and cap fell to the floor, and the lovely 
form of his well known Emma stood before him, greatly agitated and 
bathed in tears. Their two friends, with fright, and dismay, fell back 
to the door, while she, in her musical female voice, said in a soothing 
manner : 

“ Aye, dear George, she does indeed approve your noble conduct, and 
prays you to look up and pardon her for the pain she has deemed it her 
duty to cause you to suffer.” 

Blackwood, bewildered by her well known voice rose, and cast a look 
of amazement upon her, and with distorted features exclaimed : 

‘‘ Saint of Heaven, this awful mystery, I pray unfold.’’ 

Raising her hands in an affectionate manner, she replied with her pe- 
culiar artless smile : 

“ Harry Herbert is Emma Morton, and Emma Morton is Harry Her- 
bert. O ! George, accept thine own;” and then threw herself into his 
arms. And the author deeming his powers inadequate to portray this 
meeting in its true colors, leaves it with the reader’s own imagination. 

After the outpouring of hearts was over, and some degree of compo- 
sure restored, Blackwood said : 

“ Why, my dearest, did you urge me so strongly to fight a duel with 
you ? I thought that you were opposed to that relic of misguided brave- 
ry, under all circumstances.” 

“ And indeed, so I am,” said Emma, “ and I view a monomachy as 
the grossest act of savage life, of which a human being can be guilty, 
and as utterly unbecoming in civilized man. And in civil society, I at- 
tribute such conduct solely to the use of alcohol. But, not knowing 
your views on the subject, and seeing I had an opportunity to bring them 
forth, I deemed it my duty to put you to the severest test, so that in af- 
ter life I might know w^here to find you. And happy I am now that 
I have the strongest reasons to ever look for you on the side of en- 
lightened humanity.” 

‘‘ Well, the trial, you imposed upon me,” said Blackwood “ was in- 
deed a severe one, and I applaud your tact and judgment in its manage- 
ment. And I do not now wish it had been omitted, because it has afford- 
ed me an opportunity to ‘ show you my faith by my works.’ But come, 
Emma, I wish you to relate your history after I left you in Maine.” 

“ O ! George,” said she, “ I have had some trying times since I saw 
you. My poor father died in a few days after you left us, and I be- 
lieve he has gone to Heaven. Before he died he grieved sorely at the 
thought of leaving me on the cold charities of the world ; but our good 
cousin Moore informed’him that the friend who had helped him before, 


EMMA MORTON. 


151 


had just died and left one-half of his property to him and his heirs, 
which would place me above dependence on others. This relieved his 
mind on that subject and he then became resigned. 

After father’s death I lived at Mr. Moore’s ; but I was all the time in 
fear of that villain Holland, and I thought my safer plan would be to 
follow you in disguise, and I procured clothing for that purpose and hid 
it in the woods near the brook, between our farm and town. And 
when I had all things ready, I walked out under the pretense that I was 
merely going out for amusement, and proceeded to the woods to change 
my clothes. When near the brook, I met a man on horseback, and 
passed him ; and soon after the detested Holland came into the road 
from the bushes just before me. The wretch spoke to me, biit I made 
him no reply, until he spoke indecently to me, and then as I walked 
along, I said : 

“ You hateful destroyer of all my joys, away from my sight.” 

“ O ! come, now, my sweet love,” he said, “ don’t be so angry, for I’m 
determined to enjoy your sweet charms even at the risk of my life and 
stepping towards me, I threw my handkerchief, on which there was some 
blood from my nose, into his face : he caught it, and putting it into his 
pocket stepped towards me again, when I drew my father’s revolver, 
and ordered him to quit my sight. With astonishment he gazed up- 
on me for a moment or two, and then said, ‘ O ! you won’t shoot me, 
will you ? ’ With my indignation raised to the highest pitch, I told him, 
if he did not leave me instantly, I would drive him before me me into 
town, and have him arrested for an attempt to commit brutal violence 
upon my person. He paused, and was about to speak ; but I added, I 
will hear not a word from your poisonous mouth ; away, or you are a 
dead villain,’ and I began to pull the trigger. When he saw my deter- 
mination, he staggered back and left me. I then run into the woods and 
put on my disguise, and by the way of the Ohio river and Orleans, 
arrived here the day before I rescued your life from the robbers, and 
learned where you had gone, and went to meet you, and since then you 
know where I have been, and what I have done. And, now, dear 
George, there is one thing we must attend to immediately.” 

‘‘ And what is that, my Em?” inquired Blackwood, 

“It is to save that wretch from the gallows, for murdering me,” she 
said, with a smile, 

“ I will write to-day, and have the proceedings against him stayed, 
until they hear from me again ; and, in the mean time, I hope to close 
my business here, and be ready to return to our beloved friends and 
home,” said Blackwood. 


152 


EMMA MORTON. 


Their two friends, after congratulating them on the happy termination 
of their controversy, left them. 

Emma and Blackwood now alone, after interchanging some friendly 
sentiments, such as lovers like to express, he proposed their immediate 
union. 

“ Why, George,” said she, laughing, “ don’t you think it wrong to 
marry your brother Harry Herbert ? ” 

“ Certainly not,” said he, ‘‘ when my brother Harry is transformed 
into my beloved Emma. But stop,” he added : “ How in the world 

did you manage to throw off your disguise so quick ? ” 

“ Why,” said she, “ I had my red wig attached to my cap, and my 
cloak concealed my short frock, so that all I had to do was to drop my 
cloak, and push off my cap, and away went my long, bushy wig, that 
had shaded my face, and there stood Emma Morton, at your service, 
sir.” 

“Well, I must say,” said he, “that I was almost struck down at 
your appearance. If the invisible world had been opened to my sight, 
I could not have felt more awful than I did when I beheld your noble 
attitude. But when you spoke, my feelings changed, and my strength 
returned. But, come, my dear, what do you say to my proposition ? ” 

“ Well,” she replied, “I leave that to you. If you think it is best, I 
have no objection. But I must have some time to make up some cloth- 
ing.” 

“ O ! certainly,” said Blackwood. 

“But,” said-Emma, thoughtfully, “it seems now difficult for me, as 
I am known as Harry Herbert, to change to Emma Morton.” 

“ O ! leave that all to me,” said Blackwood; “I will see that all is 
done in a proper manner.” 


EMMA MORTON. 


153 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE HAPPY RETURN DISCHARGE OF HOLLAND CONSTITUTIONALITY 

OF A LAW TO ABOLISH ALCOHOL. 

In a few months after the close of the above conversation, Mr. and 
Mrs. Blackwood were happy in his father’s house, relating to the old 
folks, surrounded by many young ones, the wonderful events with which 
they were connected ; and after spending a few weeks in the happiest 
manner with his parents and friends, they paid a ^isit to Mr. and Mrs. 
Moore. The people of the town of C crowded to see and congrat- 

ulate her whom they loved, and whom they had thought was murdered. 
But on relating her manner of escape from Holland, and seeing the trap 
in which he had been, unintentionally on her part, caught, they shouted 
for joy. The villain, by Blackwood’s direction, had been but a few days 
before, discharged. He left the prison so much worn down that he 
could hardly walk when set at liberty. 

“ Poor wretch,” said Mrs. Blackwood, when she learned his condi- 
tion ; “his wicked designs upon me led him into a dreadful snare, and 
he deserved all he has suffered. But I feel sorry that any person should 
deserve such sufferings.” 

After regulating their affairs, Mr. Blackwood and his wife agreed to 
spend their time and means in opposition to the liquor trade, until the 
Legislature of Maine passed a law to abolish it. Roper and O’Brien 
had just returned from a lecturing tour, and they reported that the 
whole State was alive, in opposition to alcohol, and that the only diffi- 
culty in the way of its abolishment was the constitutional objections al- 
ledged against it, which they said were believed by many who wished its 
destruction. 

“ To this point, then,” said Blackwood, “ we must now turn our at- 
tention.” 

“Yes, sir,” said O’Brien ; “ but how can Roper and I, who have never 
read law, say anything about law points ? ” 

“ By a very short lecture,” said Blackwood, “ I can give you a clew 
by which you can soon qualify yourselves for that purpose ; and if you 
will call a meeting for lo-morrow evening, I will deliver an address with 
reference to that point.” 

Accordingly the meeting was called, and notice given of the subject to 
be discussed, which drew together a large assembly of all parties at 
an early hour, anxious to hear the talented stranger. At the hour ap- 


154 


EMMA MORTON. 


pointed, Mr. Blackwood began his address in a calm and graceful man- 
ner. He adverted to the tardiness of the community in throwing off old 
established customs, in consequence of the appetites and interests of 
many being gratified and sustained by them. He then presented a brief 
sketch of the mighty host, composed of rum-sellers, rum-drinkers, and 
rum-makers, and many others incidentally interested in the use of alco- 
hol ; all of whom, he said, “ For the want of human hearts to feel for 
human woe, will, until their hearts are changed, use every means, fair 
and foul, to keep alcohol afloat in the land, regardless of the untold hor- 
rors of their inhuman conduct.” He then hastily traced the Temperance 
Societies down to the- period in which he was speaking, and showed the 
good they had done, and the great light they had thrown on the public 
mind with regard to the use of strong drink. “They have,” said he, “in- 
contestably proven that the use of strong drink as a beverage, is injuri- 
ous to the human constitution, and that its effects are nothing but evil un- 
der all circumstances. And these facts,” he continued, “are now ad- 
mitted even by their opposers. And now, having impressed the public 
mind with these great fundamental truths, they respectfully lay the sub- 
ject before their rulers, and pray them to take such measures as will 
protect them and their fellow citizens from the undistinguished ruin that 
alcohol is daily bringing upon them. 

“But to this prayer, the mighty host before alluded to object, and say, 
‘ You have done well ; you have persuaded many to leave the bottle, and 
become sober men, and while you keep on in this way you are in your 
right sphere, and we wish you God speed ; but you must remember that 
you are laboring in a purely moral cause, and we cannot permit you to 
have any law to help you; moral suasion is all that we can grant you. It 
would be an infringement of our constitutional rights for our Legislature 
to say what we shall eat or what we shall drink, or wherewithal we shall 
be clothed; it is unconstitutional to legislate on moral subjects.’ Now 
this all seems to be very plausible reasoning to many; but,” he said, “let 
us examine it, and see how it will agree with common sense facts. We 
agree with them, and say that the Temperance men have done well, in 
persuading many to leave the bottle, and in proving that alcohol is the 
greatest curse that ever afflicted the human race. But we disagree with 
them in regard to moral suasion : for we know, and they know, that 
moral suasion is now powerless ; and that while the Temperance men per- 
suade one man to leave off the bottle, they persuade five to take hold of 
it, and thus they multiply drunkenness to an alarming extent. And it is 
by this knowledge that they are willing to bid us God speed. Fellow 
citizens, when moral suasion can melt the rocks, then may we look for it 


EMMA MORTON. 


155 


to persuade a man against his interest. But until then, unless restrained 
by law, those interested in the traffic of ardent spirits, will continue to 
infringe our nearest and dearest rights by debauching our kindred, and 
disturbing our peace by their filthy liquors, and by filching from our 
pockets large sums of taxes to support the paupers and suppress the crime 
which their trade scatters over the land. And the'only law that can pro- 
tect us from these appalling evils must be one that will prohibit the manu- 
facture and sale of alcohol within the State. And without this all the Tem- 
perance men in the world, if congregated in Maine, can never prevent it 
from overflowing the land with crime, misery, desolation and death, pain- 
ful to families, and ruinous to the State. But against such a law, grave 
constitutional objections are alledged, which I intend presently to notice ; 
but before I do so, I wish you to look closely at the objectors, nay, I wish 
you to look through them, so that you may see the motives of their objec- 
tions ; and the first I will present is the distiller. There he stands in his 
distillery : you see he looks like other men, but look through him, and you 
will see that he has a heart all withered up, and calloused all over with 
the love of gain. No sympathies can enter it , and he cares not how 
much human blood he sheds, nor how much injury he does his country, 
so that they put money in his purse. And yet this man is professedly 
one of the greatest philanthropists and patriots of the age, and he talks 
loudly on constitutional rights and the liberty of the people ; but accord- 
ing to his views of the words ‘ liberty of the people,’ they mean nothing 
more than his liberty to grow rich at their expense. This man of course 
has a strong motive to urge constitutional objections to a law that would 
quench the fires in his distillery, and he dupes many by his pretended 
love of State. Now, look a little further : There stands another objec- 
tor behind that counter. He is a wholesale trader of the poison, and 
differs in but one respect from the distiller, and that is, his tact for ma- 
king the poison more poisonous, by his wicked adulterations , and his 
motive to oppose a law to stop his trade is gain, but he pretends it is a 
love of country, and thereby he dupes many to his opinion. But look 
again : There stands a man precisely in heart like the other two, but 
differing in his mode of operations. Hear him boasting of liberty, and 
persuading the young and the old to be independent, and not join a Tem- 
perance Society to the sacrifice of their liberty, but to keep themselves 
free to drink, or to let it alone, just as they please. See how carefully 
he mixes the poison to allure the unguarded into habits of drunken- 
ness. Mark with what tact he benumbs the noble intellect of man, and 
makes him a thing too mean to be compared to any other thing in the 
whole universe of God. See what a cloud of pauperism and crime the 


156 


EMMA MOKTON 


fumes of his filthy shop spread over the land. Hark ! hear the cries 
and groans of weeping and dying innocence, and see the flood of tears 
and blood that mark its course. Look how mercilessly he thrusts his in- 
furiated victims from his door, when they become unruly, to go forth 
and shed innocent blood ; instead of letting them have enough to put 
them to sleep and become harmless. The love of gain makes this man 
a judge of law, and he urges constitutional objections against a law 
that would save his victims from his blood-stained grasp. This man is a 
retailer of liquor, and he .dupes and ruins thousands. 

“But look again: There stands an office-holder. He knows, like 
many of his brother office-holders know, that he owes his brief author- 
ity more to the influence of alcohol than he does to merit or talent, and 
that any law to abolish its use would deprive him of his best friends, 
while electioneering ; and although he has to furnish many barrels of it 
to his tried minions, to deal out for his elevation, he regards not the 
expense, because he makes the people pay it when he is in power. 
You hear him, therefore, loud and long on constitutional objections to 
any law that would deprive him of his chief means of preferment. 
And he, being a man in authority, is presumed to know the law, and 
thus he dupes his thousands. But look into that parlor. There sits a 
moderate drinker. His appetite has become vitiated, and he now likes 
to drink a little once in a while, and has not yet discovered how near he 
he is to a drunkard’s woes. He says, ‘ I can drink or I can let it alone,’ 
but never puts his appetite to the test, and drinks on under the mistaken 
idea that it is no harm to drink the good creatures that God has made • 
and the fact that God never made alcohol any more than he made gun- 
powder or a pistol to blow out a man’s brains, has never entered his 
mind. Poor deluded man ! he loves his bottle, and cannot bear the 
thought of giving it up ; and instead of trying to save himself; while 
the current is favorable for his escape, he joins with his destroyers to 
founder the only life boat that can save him from the gulf of drunken 
despair. His disinterested position in society, gives weight to his ob- 
jections ; and, as a matter of course, many are duped by him. But our 
list of objectors is too long to notice them all thus in detail. 

“ The interests of alcohol pervade so many classes of society directly 
or indirectly that time will fail me to follow it. It induces fights and 
quarrels, which are profitable to lawyers. It induces diseases, which 
are profitable to doctors. It increases advertisements, which are profita- 
ble to printers. It increases the number of prisoners, which are profit- 
able to prison keepers. It increases the number of paupers, which is 
profitable to poorhouse keepers. It greatly increases our taxes ^ which 


EMMA MORTON. 


157 


are profitable to tax collectors, although a heavy burthen to the people. 
In this manner we might go on, and add more to this mighty host of objec- 
tors, and then we might exhibit a statement of the millions of capital em- 
ployed over the State to move the vast alcoholic machinery, in which there 
is not a cog, nave, spoke, shaft, arm, crank, lever, rod, nail, spike, or a 
grain of weight, that does not draw its motive force from the sufferings 
of human nature. But I forbear, lest the magnitude of the mighty host 
arrayed against us should drive us unresistingly from the field. But 
let us not be discouraged ; we have naught to fear, for although the alco- 
holic boys have nearly all ^the office holders on their side, they neither 
have might nor right. We, the people, who seek to live by industry, 
when we rise in the majesty of our strength can obtain our rights at 
the sacred ballot box of the land, and say to our foes, thus far shalt 
thou go, but no further. And now, let us inquire whether we have 
a constitutional right to have a law’ passed to abolish the use of alco- 
hol as a beverage. And this inquiry leads us first to ascertain for what 
purposes Governments are formed. 

“ Now there is nothing that 1 have read so concisely and fully settles this 
point as the Declaration of Independence of these United States ; and I 
presume no one will contradict the doctrines of that glorious instrument, 
and that says : ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are 
created free and equal, and that they are endowed by their Creator with 
certain unalienable rights, among which are life, liberty, and the pursuit 
of happiness ; and to secure these Governments are instituted among men, 
deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.^ Now, 
upon the principles contained in these extracts, the Constitution of this 
State is founded, as well as the Constitution of the United States, and 
neither has any clause or paragraph which contradict them. And the 
extract recognizes three rights, and to secure these to the people is the 
sole object of Governments ; and the first right mentioned in it is life. 
This is unalienable ; no man can sell or transfer his life to another. He 
may forfeit it according to the law^s of his Creator, but he has no right to 
destroy or abuse it himself neither can he make any contract with anoth- 
er to abuse it for him ; and all laws and contracts that lead to the destruc- 
tion or abuse of life unnecessary for the public good, are null and void. 
And with this view of the case it is plain that all laws which protect al- 
cohol from destruction by the hands of any person who may consider it 
his right to destroy it, are null and void, because, by the superior law of 
man’s existence, he has a right to destroy every thing that is dangerous 
to his life. But we must pass on. 

“ The second right is liberty. Now it is presumed that all understand 


158 


EMMA MORTON. 


the word liberty here used, to signify civil liberty, and not that brute 
force which in contra-distinction is called natural liberty. And taking 
this for granted, we must next ascertain what civil liberty is. All jurists 
agree that civil liberty is natural liberty so far abridged or limited as is 
necessary for the public good, or for the good of the whole community, 
and this runs directly into and merges itself in the third unalienable right 
mentioned in the Declaration of Independence, which is the pursuit of 
happiness. And now, after investigating these rights, we clearly discov- 
er that every people, when they unite in a community, do so for the pur- 
pose of being protected in the pursuit of happiness, and to insure this 
they form certain fundamental rules by which they agree to be governed, 
and these rules in this country, we call our Constitution. And it is a 
conceded doctrine in a Democracy that all governmental power belongs to 
the people except that which they expressly give up in the articles of 
their organization ; and therefore, unless our opponents can show that the 
Constitution contains an article that prohibits the people from passing a 
law by their Representatives to abolish the use of alcohol as a beverage, 
such a law when passed would be perfectly constitutional. And this 
they cannot show ; but on the contrary we can show that the whole Con- 
stitution, in letter and spirit, gives our Legislature power to pass all laws 
that may be necessary to protect the people in the pursuit of happiness, 
and provide for the general welfare of the State. And now we have to 
inquire, whether the people need a law to protect them from the ravages 
of alcohol; and whether such a law would promote the general welfare of 
the State? If these questions can be answered in the affirmative, all the 
constitutional objections of the alcoholic party fall lifelessly to the ground. 
And here I only have to say that this answer has been given a thousand 
times, even by our opponents themselves. For they as well as ourselves 
have had their happiness marred by drunkenness, and they have wit- 
nessed the great injury it has done to the best interests of the State. By 
a calculation we learn that alcoholic beverages cost the United States 
twelve millions of dollars annually, and destroy two hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars worth of property, and cause thirty thousand deaths, and 
send twenty-five thousand to prison, and place ten thousand children in 
the almshouse, and procure one hundred and fifty murders, and fifty su- 
icides, and bequeath to the country one hundred thousand orphan child- 
ren. 

“Now, our State shares her proportion of this vast amount of evil; 
and who is so ignorant or so desperately devoid of truth as to say that the 
people need no law to protect them from this awful state of things, and 
that the general welfare of the State is not impaired thereby, when 


EMMA MOKTON. 


159 


they know for these great evils the vast ocean of alcohol yields us not 
one poor little drop of public or private good ? 

“But our opponents say again ; We admit that Intemperance is a great 
evil ; but Temperance is purely a moral subject, and our Legislature has 
no power to legislate on moral subjects, or to say what we shall eat, or 
what we shall drink, or wherewithal we shall be clothed. Now these as- 
sertions show that they either wish to deceive the people by their kna- 
very and duplicity, or that they are themselves so desperately blinded by 
their love for alcohol, that they cannot see the plain truth as it passes 
before them in the full blaze of day. But it matters not for our pur- 
pose on which horn of the dilemma they hang. We can sweep away 
their rubbish, hang it they where they may. They declare that our Le- 
gislature has no right to legislate on Temperance, because it is purely a 
moral subject. Now, we could join issue with them here, and beat 
them badly ; but we do not wish to ask our Legislature to pass a law to 
enforce Temperance : We ask for a law to protect us from the vast 
amount of temporal evil that alcohol is daily throwing broadcast over the 
land, to the destruction of individual earthly happiness, and of the best 
interests of the State ; and the only efficient law we can have for that 
purpose is, of necessity, one that will destroy the use of alcohol as a 
beverage, and not one that will punish a man for crimes which that mad- 
dening liquid causes him to commit. And our opponents hereafter may 
hold their serpent tongues between their teeth, for we want no law to 
enforce virtue or Temperance, or that will have any influence on reli- 
gion. These we leave with man and his God ; but, if, like all other 
laws for the suppression of crime, a law to abolish the use of alcohol 
should have an incidental effect in favor of good morals, surely there is 
no man so low-minded as to prefer the terrors of vice to the mild reign 
of virtue. Such a preference, if acted upon in every respect, would lead 
to a repeal of all laws enacted for the suppression of crime. Murder, 
theft, burglary, arson, perjury, and all the crime prohibited by our crim- 
inal code must be let loose to prey upon upon us, because their prohibi- 
tion has a tendency to promote virtue. 

“But our opponents do not wish this ; and why? Because it would be 
contrary to their interests. But alcohol, which destroys more lives and 
property than all the crimes mentioned in our criminal code, because it 
enriches their pockets, or gratifies their depraved appetites, they wish 
to keep among us. This is truly an incontestable mark of the deplora- 
ble delusion which this destructive liquid has brought over the human 
mind; and, to let our opponents see how horribly they are deluded, we 
will hold the mirror of truth before them for a few moments. They 


160 


EMMA MORTON. 


say that our Legislature have no right to say w^hat we shall eat, or whai 
we shall drink, or to pass any laws on moral subjects. Now our Legis- 
lature, from the organization of our Government down to the present 
day, have legislated on moral, and, indeed on religious subjects; and their 
authority so to do, has never been called in question on any other subject 
than on the moral subject of Temperance. And as a proof of this, I beg 
to hold to their short-sighted view the laws that prohibit Sabbath-break- 
ing, gambling, incest, bigamy, adultery, profane swearing, the selling 
tainted meat or other un^vholesome provisions, the indecent exhibition of 
one’s self, without being properly clothed, and many other offenses ; and 
ask them what they will do with these laws. Many of them are on 
purely moral subjects, and yet their constitutionality has never been 
doubted. But there is one other offense prohibited in the laws which I 
deem worthy of especial notice, in consequence of the strange inconsis- 
tency it involves, and the plain contradiction it gives our objectors — and 
that is drunkenness ; and the inconsistency is in the Legislature first 
granting a license to a man to sell liquor to his neighbor, and then pun- 
ishing that neighbor for drinking it. Now, if the Legislature has power 
to say a man shall not drink a gallon or a barrel, it has power to say he 
shall not drink a drop. But it is useless to pursue these objections any 
further ; all must see their futility, and I leave them.” 

All the topics presented in the above extract of his speech, the gifted 
speaker illustrated and enforced by many facts and rhetorical figures, 
which for the want of room the author is compelled to omit, and he leaves 
the reader to judge for himself the effect such an address is likely to pro- 
duce. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

BLACKWOOD AND WIFE, AND ROPER AND o’bRIEN, TRAVERSE THE STATE, 
AND RETURN TO THE TOWN OF C., AND JOIN IN CELEBRATING THE PAS- 
SAGE OF THE MAINE LIQUOR LAW. 

The day after Blackwood delivered the above address, he and his wife 
commenced a southern tour through the State, and Roper and O’Brien 
went towards the north, all with the determination to fight valiantly 
against the alcoholic party; and they soon aroused the people from their 


f 


EMMA MORTON. 


161 


lethargy, and brought them to see how greatly they had been duped by 
those interested in the liquor trade. Mr. Blackwood was very success- 
ful in overthrowing the constitutional objection that had been spread 
abroad against a law for the suppression of the use of alcohol; and Mrs. 
Blackwood, by her fireside lectures, caused many to embrace her views 
and espouse the cause of humanity. 

“ My dear madam,” she said to a lady of high standing, one day, who 
was lamenting on account of her husband’s drinking habits, “do you ex- 
pect that your husband can abstain from the use of liquor, while you 
keep it about your house and put so much of it in your culinary prepa- 
rations ? If you do, you will be greatly mistaken. By your sauces, 
delicious mince pies, and other articles flavored with liquor, you give him 
a continual appetite for it ; and I do really fear, that the ladies in this 
way make more drunkards than the grog shops. I have known many 
who complained against the retailers for making their husbands and 
sons drunkards, when at the same time, they have done the awful work 
themselves. A lady who wishes to be exempt from the evils of drun- 
kenness, should disuse and discountenance liquors of all sorts, every 
where, and under all circumstances.” 

“Well,” Mrs. Blackwood, said the lady, “I never thought of these 
things before : I see you are right, and hereafter I will pursue your ad- 
vice.” 

Roper and O’Brien were also successful. They were both interest- 
ing speakers ; and having been in the ranks of their opponents, they 
were prepared to expose their duplicity. 

“It is useless, aye, worse than useless, my friends,” said O’Brien, one 
night to a large assembly, “ for us to undertake to regulate alcohol. The 
thing is wild, and can’t be tamed, and I want to know how it can be 
regulated. I kept it for distribution for more than fifteen years, and I 
know by painful experience that I could never regulate it. It is like the 
hyena, and it must either be killed or shut up close from every body, or 
it will bite. I go in for killing it, for its spiritual nature enables it to op- 
erate on the appetites and interest of so many evil men that it is impos- 
sible to keep it in any place of confinement. They -will let it loose, be 
it confined where it may, and in every neighborhood they will erect a 
kennel for it. Now, what I mean by a kennel is, a place kept for the 
purpose of enticing the people to enter and be bitten. And these ken- 
nels are foster.ed and protected by the moderate drinkers, the rum-ma- 
kers, the wholesale-dealers, the ofiice-seekers, the office-holders, and 
many others who secretly supply them with many barrels of the poison- 
ous slops, to be used for the purpose of duping or ruining the people. 
II— 


162 


EMMA MOETON. 


Now, my friends, this is not guess work. I will cite facts, to which, to 
my own disgrace, I have been a party, to prove that it is true.” 

He then gave a short history of his grog-shop, in which he adverted 
to Morton, Jarvis, Holland, Howland, and many others; and presented 
to view one of the most heart-rending pictures of suffering virtue, blen- 
ded with human depravity, that was ever drawn by pen or pencil, and 
then closed by exclaiming: “ Freemen ! to the polls, to the polls ; alco- 
hol must be destroyed, or it will destroy you.” The whole assembly, 
with seemingly but one voice, responded ; “ Down with it, down with it. 
Hurrah for O’Brien ! ” 

At another meeting, after speaking for some time, Roper said: “ I 
wish now to offer a few remarks relative to the foreign population of 
this land of liberty. We often hear it sneeringly said, that the grog- 
shops are kept by foreigners, and that an American deems the business 
too mean for him to engage in, Now, I admit that this in a great meas- 
ure is true ; but is there no excuse for the course our noble hearted for- 
eigners pursue in this matter ? I think there is. Now, let us look at a 
foreigner just arrived on our boasted shores of liberty. Here he stands, 
as ignorant of the evils of alcohol, and the opposition the good part of 
our citizens are urging against it, as the American people were thirty 
years ago. A brother foreigner, who has arrived a few days before him, 
steps up and takes him by the friendly hand, and says, as we used to 
say, ‘ Come, take a glass of kindness with me ; ’ thinking, as we used to 
think, that his hospitality cannot be manifested any where but over a glass 
of grog; and of course, in nine cases out of ten, a drunken frolic ensues, 
and in consequence of that a drunken life is often commenced, and our 
poison being so very cheap, there is no obstacle to its continuance. He 
also sees that a grog-shop is a profitable concern, and that it can be com- 
menced with a mere trifle ; and finds that, that trifle is soon advanced by 
some office-seeker or liquor trader, who sometimes, to the disgrace of his 
profession, is a church-member ; and thus supplied by the kind-hearted, 
liberal-minded American, he opens his establishment, wholly ignorant of 
the disgrace attached to his trade, and utterly unconscious of the amount 
of evil he is about to commit. After a while, he may probably hear a 
little about his disgrace, and the evils he is bringing on himself and oth- 
ers, and he inquires of his good friend about it with some interest. 

“ ‘ O, think nothing about that,’ says his American friend. ‘ That is 
only talked about by a few fanatics who wish to destroy our liberty and 
unite Church and State together, and reduce us to bondage. Care noth- 
ing about it, my friend. The freemen of America will sustain you.’ 
After this, the poor deluded foreigner rests satisfied with his business. 


EMMA MORTON. 


163 


and without knowing it, reduces thousands of his countrymen, as well 
as many others, to a bondage tenfold more grievous than any other ever 
imposed on mortal man. 

“ And now I would ask how this foreigner has innocently become an 
alcoholic ruler over us ? To this question I suppose, some would an- 
sw er one thing and some another j but there is but one truthful answer 
to it, and that is this : ‘ By the votes of freemen ! ’ Aye, my coun- 

trymen, we are boasting of liberty, and inviting the noble-hearted lov- 
ers of freedom from foreign lands to come and participate in our bless- 
ings ; but instead of freedom, we give them the worst of slavery ; in- 
stead of blessings, we give them the direst curse of the infernal world. 
O ! my countrymen, let this awful crime lie no longer at our door ; but 
goTo the sacred ballot-box, like philanthropic freemen ; there, and there 
only, can you give the Herculean blow that will slay the monster alco- 
hol, and free us from his galling chains. Give it, then, and a loud shout 
of endless joy, will burst forth from millions of joyful hearts, and float 
upon the purified air. And the angels that sang peace on earth, and 
good will to man, will catch the sound, and bear it through a vast eter- 
nity. To the polls, then, to the polls, my countrymen ! Alcohol must be 
destroyed.” Amid a deafening round of applause, the speaker took his 
seat. 

Besieged on all sides and at every point for a few years, by our he- 
roes, and others whom their efforts brought into the field, the alcoholic 
party had to fall back and give way for the following act of the Maine 
Legislature : — 


AN ACT FOR THE SUPPRESSION OF DRINKING HOUSES AND TIPPLING SHOPS. 

Section 1. Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives in Legislature 
ASSEMBLED, AS FOLLOWS .* No person shall be allowed, at anytime, to manufacture or sell, by 
himself, his clerk, servant or agent, directly or indirectly, any spirituous liquors or intoxicating 
liquors, or any mixed liquors, a part of which is spirituous or intoxicating, except as hereinafter 
provided. 

Sec. 2, The selectmen of any town, and mayor and aldermen of any city, on the first Monday 
of May annually, or as soon thereafter as may be convenient, may appoint some suitable person, 
as the agent of said town or city, to sell at some central and convenient place within said town 
or city, spirits, wines, or other intoxicating liquors, to bo used for medicinal and mechanical pur- 
poses and no other ; and said agent shall receive such compensation for his services as the board 
appointing him shall prescribe; and shall, in the sale of such liquors, conform to such rules 
and regulations, as the selectmen or mayor and aldermen as aforesaid, shall prescribe for that 
purpose. And such agent, appointed as aforesaid, shall hold his situation for one year, unless 
sooner removed by the board from which he received his appointment, as he may be at any time, 
at the pleasure of said board. 


164 


EMMA MORTON. 


Sec. 3. Such agent shall receive a certificate from the mayor and aldermen or selectmen by 
whom he has been appointed, authorizing him, as the agent of such town or city, to sell intoxica- 
ting liquors for medicinal and mechanical purposes only : but such certificate shall not be deliv- 
ered to the person so appointed, until he shall have executed and delivered to said board, a bond 
with two good and sufficient sureties, in the sum of six hundred dollars, in substance as follows 

Know all men that we, as principal, and and as sureties, are holden and 

stand firmly bound to the inhabitants of the town of , ( or city, as the case may be,) in the 

sum of six hundred dollars, to be paid them ; to which payment we bind ourselves, our heirs, ex- 
ecutors and administrators, firmly by these presents. Sealed with our seals, and dated this 

day of , A. D. . 

The condition of this obligation is such, that whereas the above bounden has been duly 

appointed an agent for the town (or city) of , to sell within, and for and on account of 

said town (or city,) intoxicating liquors for medicinal and mechanical purposes and no other, un- 
til the of , A. D. , unless sooner removed from said agency. 

Now if the said shall in all respects conform to the provisions of the law relating to the 

business for which he is appointed, and to such rules and regulations as now are, or shall be from 
time to time, established by the board making the appointment, then this obligation to be void; 
otherwise to remain in full force. 

Sec. 4. If any person, by himself, clerk, servant or agent, shall at any time sell any spirit- 
uous liquors, part of which is intoxicating, in violation of the provisions of this act, he shall 
forfeit and pay on the first conviction, ten dollars and the costs of prosecution, and shall stand 
committed until the same be paid ; on the second conviction he shall pay twenty dollars and the 
costs of prosecution, and shall stand committed until the same be paid ; on the third and every 
subsequent conviction, he shall pay twenty dollars and the costs of prosecution, and shall be im- 
prisoned in the common jail, not less than three months, nor more than six months : and in de- 
fault of the payment of the fines, and costs prescribed by this section, for the first and second 
convictions, the convict shall not be entitled to the benefit of chapter 175 of the revised statutes, 
until he shall have been imprisoned two months ; and in default of payment of fines and costs 
provided for the third and every subsequent conviction, he shall not be entitled to the benefit of 
said chapter 175 of the revised statutes, until he shall have been imprisoned four months. And 
if any clerk, servant, agent or other person in the employment, or on the premises of another, 
shall violate the provisions of this section, he shall be held equally guilty with the principal, and 
on conviction, shall suffer the same penalty. 

Sec. 5. Any forfeiture or penalty arising under the above section, may be recovered by an ac- 
tion of debt, or by complaint before any justice of the peace, or judge of any municipal or po- 
lice court, in the county where the offense was committed. And the forfeiture so recovered shall 
goto the town where the convicted party resides, for the use of the poor; and the prosecutor or 
complainant may be admitted as a witness in the trial. And if any one of the selectmen or 
board of mayor and aldermen shall approve of the commencement of any such suit, by indor- 
sing his name upon the writ, the defendant shall in no event recover any costs; and in all actions 
of debt arising under this section, the fines and forfeitures suffered by the defendant, shall be 
the same as if the actions had been by complaint. And it shall be the duty of the mayor and 
aldermen of any city, and selectmen of any town, to commence an action in behalf of said town 
or city, against any person guilty of a violation of any of the provisions of this act, on being in- 
formed of the same, and being furnished with proof of the fact. 

Sec. 6. If any person shall claim an appeal from a judgment rendered against him by any 
judge or justice, on the trial of such action or complaint, he shall, before the appeal shall be allowed, 
recognize in the sum of one hundred dollars, with two good and sufficient sureties, in every case so 
appealed, to prosecute his appeal, and to pay all costs, fines and penalties that may be awarded 
against him, upon a final disposition of such suit or complaint. And before his appeal shall be 
allowed, he shall also, in every case, give a bond with two good and sufficient sureties, running to 
the town or city where the offense was committed, in the sum of two hundred dollars, that he 


EMMA MORTON. 


165 


will not* during the pendency of such appeal, violate any of the provisions of the act. And no 
recognizance or^^bond shall be taken in cases arising under this act, except by the justice or judge 
before whom the trial was had ; and the defendant shall be held to advance the jury fees in every 
case of appeal in an action of debt; and in the event of a final conviction before a jury, the de- 
fendant shall pay and suffer double the amount of fines, penalties and imprisonment awarded 
against him by the justice or judge from whose judgment the appeal was made. The forfeiture 
of all bonds and recognizances given in pursuance of this act, shall go to the town or city where 
the offense was committed, for the use of the poor; and if the recognizances and bonds mentioned 
in this section shall not be given, within twenty-four hours after the judgment, the appeal shall 
not be allowed, the defendant in the mean time to stand committed. , 

Sec. 7. The mayor and aldermen of any city, and the selectmen of any town, whenever com- 
plaint shall be made to them that a breach of the conditions of the bond given by any person ap- 
pointed under this act, has been committed, shall notify the person complained of ; and if upon a 
hearing of the parties it shall appear that any breach has been committed, they shall re- 
voke and make void his appointment. And whenever a breach of any bond given to the 
inhabitants of any city or town in pursuance of any of the provisions of this act, shall be made 
known to the mayor and aldermen, or selectmen, or shall in any manner come to their knowledge, 
they or some one of them shall, at the expense and for the use of said city or town, cause the 
bond to be put in suit in any court proper to try the same. 

Sec. 8. No person shall bo allowed to be a manufacturer of any spirituous or intoxicating 
liquor, or a common seller thereof, without being duly appointed, as aforesaid, on pain of for- 
feiting on the first conviction, the sum of one hundred dollars and costs of prosecution, and in 
default of the payment thereof, the person so convicted shall be imprisoned sixty days in the 
common jail; and on the second conviction, the person so convicted shall pay the sum of two 
hundred dollars and the costs of prosecution, and in default of payments shall be imprisoned four 
months in the common jail; and on the third, and every subsequent conviction shall pay the sum 
of two hundred dollars, and shall be imprisoned four months in the common jail of the county, 
where the offense was committed ; said penalties to be recovered before any court of competent 
jurisdiction, by indictment, or by action of debt in the name of the city or town where the of- 
fense shall be committed. And whenever a default shall be had of any recognizance, arising 
under this act, scire facias shall be issued, returnable at the next term, and the same shall not be 
continued, unless for good cause satisfactory to the court. 

Sec. 9. No person engaged in the unlawful traffic in intoxicating liquors shall be competent to 
sit upon any jury in any case arising under this act, and when information shall be communica- 
ted to the court, that any member of any panel is engaged in such traffic, or that he is believed to 
be so engaged, the court shall inquire of the juryman of whom such belief is entertained ; and 
no answer which he shall make shall be used against him in any case arising under this act ; but 
if he shall answer falsely, he shall be incapable of serving on any jury in this state ; but he may 
decline to answer, in which case he shall be discharged by the court from all further attendance as 
a juryman. 

Sec. 10. All cases arising under this act, whether by action, indictment, or complaint, which 
shall come before the superior court, either by appeal or original entry, shall take precedence in 
said court of all other business, except those criminal cases in which the parties are actually un- 
der, arrest, awaiting a trial ; and the court and prosecuting officer shall not have authority to enter 
a nolle prosequi, or to grant a continuance in any case arising under this act, either before or after 
the verdict, except where the purposes of justice shall require it. 

Sec. 11. If three persons, voters in the town or city where the complaint shall be made, shall, 
before any justice of the peace or judge of any municipal or police court, make complaint 
under oath or affirmation, that they have reason to believe and do believe that spirituous or intox- 
icating liquors are kept or deposited, and intended for sale by any person not authorized to sell the 
same in said city or town, under the provisions of this act, in any store, shop, warehouse, or other 
building, or place in said city or town, said judge shall issue’' his warrant of search to any sheriff, 


166 


EMMA MORTON . 


city marshal, or deputy, or to any constable, who shall proceed to search the premises described in 
said warrant; and if any spirituous or intoxicating liquors are found therein, he shall seize the 
same, and convey them to some proper place of security, where he shall keep them until final ac- 
tion is held thereon. But no dwelling house in which, or in part of which a shop is not kept, 
shall be searched, unless at least one of said complainants shall testify to some act of sale of in- 
toxicating liquors therein, by the occupant thereof, or by his consent or permission, within at least 
one month of the time of making said complaint. And the owner or keeper of said liquors, 
seized as aforesaid, if he shall be known to the oflScer seizing the same, shall be summoned forth- 
with before the justice or judge by whose warrant the liquors were seized and if he fails to ap- 
pear, or unless he can show by positive proof, that they are of foreign production — that they 
have been imported under the laws of the United States, and in accordance therewith — that 
they are contained in the original packages in which they were imported, and in quantities 
not less than the laws of the United States prescribe; they shall be declared forfeited, and 
shall be destroyed by authority of the written order to that efiect of said justice or judge, 
and in his presence, or in the presence of some person appointed by him to witness the destruc- 
tion thereof, and who shall join with the ofiicer by whom they shall have been destroyed, 
in attesting that fact upon the back of the order by authority of which it was done; and 
the owner or keeper shall pay a fine of twenty dollars and costs, or stand committed for thirty 
days, in default of payment, if in the opinion of the court said liquors shall have been 
kept or deposited for the purpose of sale. And if the owner or possessors of any liquors 
seized in pursuance of this section, shall set up the claim that they have been 'regularly im- 
ported under the laws of the United States, and that they are contained in the original pack- 
ages, the custom house certificates of importation and proofs of marks on the casks or packages 
corresponding thereto, shall not be received as evidence that the liquors contained in said packages 
are those actually imported therein. 

Sec. 12. If the owner, keeper, or possessor of liquor seized under the provisions of this act, 
shall be unknown to the officers seizing the same, they shall not be condemned and destroyed 
until they shall have been advertised, with the number and description of the packages as 
near as may be, for two weeks, by posting up a written description of the same in some 
public place, that if such liquors are actually the property of any city or town in the State, 
and were so at the time of the seizure, purchased for sale by the agent of said city or 
town, for medicinal and mechanical purposes only, in pursuance of the provisions of this 
act, they may not be destroyed ; but upon satisfactory proof of such ownership, within said 
two weeks, before the justice or judge by whose authority said liquors were seized, said justice 
or judge shall deliver to the agent of said city or town an order to the officer having said 
liquors in custody, whereupon said officer shall deliver them to said agent, taking the receipt 
therefor upon the back of said order, which shall be returned to said justice or judge. 

Sec. 13. If any person claiming any liquors, seized as aforesaid, shall appeal from the judgment 
of any justice or judge by whose authority the seizure was made, to the district court, before his 
appeal shall be allowed, he shall give a bond in the sum of two hundred dollars, with two good 
and sufficient sureties, to prosecute his appeal, and to pay all fines and costs which may be 
awarded against him: and, in the case of any such appeal, where the quantity of liquors so seized 
shall exceed five gallons, if the final decision shall be against the appellant, that such liquors 
were intended by him for sale, be shall be adjudged by the court a common seller of intoxicating 
liquors, and shall be subject to the penalties provided for in section eight of this act; and said 
liquors shall be destroyed as provided for in section eleven. Bat nothing contained in this act 
shall be construed to prevent any chemist, artist, or manufacturer in whose art or trade they may 
be necessary, from keeping at his place of business such reasonable and proper quantity of dis- 
tilled liquors as he may have occasion to use in his art or trade, but not for sale. 

Sec. 14. It shall be the duty of any mayor, alderman, or selectman, assessor, city marshal or 
deputy or constable, if he shall have information that any intoxicating liquors are kept or sold 
in any tent, shanty, hut or place, of any kind, for selling refreshments in any public place on or 


EMMA MORTON. 


167 


near the ground of any cattle show, agricultural exhibition, military muster, or public occasion 
of any kind, to search such suspected place ; and if such oflBcer shall find upon the premises any 
intoxicating drinks, he shall seize them, and arrest the keeper or keepers of such place, and take 
them forthwith, or as soon as may be, before some justice or judge of a municipal or police 
court, with the liquors so found and seized, and upon proof that said liquors are intoxicating, that 
they were found in possession of the accused, in a tent, shanty or other place as aforesaid, he 
or they shall be sentenced to imprisonment in the county jail for thirty days, and the liquors so 
seized shall be destroyed by order of said justice or judge. 

Sec. 15. If any person arrested under the preceding section and sentenced as aforesaid, shall 
claim an appeal, before his appeal shall be allowed, he shall give a bond in the sum of one hun- 
dred dollars, with two good and sufiicient sureties, that he will prosecute his appeal, and pay all 
fines, costs, and penalties which may be awarded against him. And if on such appeal the ver- 
dict of the jury shall be against him, he shall, in addition to the penalty awarded by the lower 
court, pay a fine of twenty dollars. In all cases of appeal under this act from the judgment 
of a justice or judge of any municipal or police court, to the district court, except where the pro- 
ceedings is by action of debt, they shall be conducted in said district court by the prosecuting of“ 
ficer of the government — and said officer shall be entitled to receive all costs taxable to the 
State in all criminal proceedings under this act, in addition to the salary allowed to such officer by 
law — but no costs in such cases shall be remitted or reduced by the prosecuting officer of the court. 
In any suit, complaint, indictment, or other proceedings against any person for a violation of any 
of the provisions of this act, other than for the first offense, it shall not be requisite to set forth 
particularly the record of a former conviction, but it shall be sufficient to alledgo briefly that such 
person has been convicted of a violation of the fourth section of this act, or as a common seller, 
as the case may be; and such allegation in any civil or criminal process in any stage of the pro- 
ceedings, before final judgment, may be amended without terms and as a matter of right. 

Sec. 16. All payments of compensations for liquors sold in violation of law, whether in mon- 
ey, labor or other property, either real or personal, shall be held and considered to have been re- 
ceived in violation of law, and without consideration, and against law, equity and good con- 
science ; and all sales, transfers, and conveyances, mortgages, liens, attachments, pledges and se- 
curities of every kind, which either in whole or in part, shall have been for or on account of 
spirituous or intoxicating liquors, shall be utterly null and void against all persons and in all ca- 
ses, and no right of any kind shall be acquired thereby ; and, in any action either at law or 
equity, touching such real or personal estate, the pnrchaser of such liquors may be a wit- 
ness for either party. And no action of any kind shall be maintained in any court in this 
State, either in whole or in part, for intoxicating or spirituous liquors sold in any other State 
or country whatever, nor shall any action of any kind be had or maintained in any court in 
this State, for the recovery or possession of intoxicating or spirituous liquors, or the value thereof. 

Sec. 17. All the provisions of this act relating to towns shall be applicable to cities and plan- 
tations ; and those relating to selectmen shall also be applied to the mayor and aldermen of ci- 
ties, and assessors of plantations. 

Sec. 18. The act entitled ^^an act to restrict the sale of intoxicating drinks,^^ approved August 
sixth, one thousand eight hundred and forty-six, is hereby repealed, except the thirteen sections 
from section ten to section twenty-two, inclusive, saving and reserving all actions or other 
proceedings, which are already commenced by authority of the same, and all other acts and parts 
of acts inconsistent with this act are hereby repealed. This act to take effect from and after its 
approval by the governor. — Approved, June 2, 1851. 


With joy and gladness our four champions met together at the town of 
C., soon after the law was passed; and their friends, in honor of their ser- 
vices, gave them a public triumphal reception, and a complimentary din- 


• 168 


EMMA MORTON. 


ner ; and a more joyful assembly than the one that met on that occasion 
was never seen before. Blackwood read and explained the law, and 
speeches were made, and songs were sung during a long summer after- 
noon. But we have not room to report them all, and the reader must be 
content with that which follows : 

On being complimented, O’Brien said : 

“ I wish to say something by way of respect for the compliment just 
paid me , but my old heart is so full of joy, that I can think of but little 
to say, and what I think of, I know not how to say it. We have been 
struggling hard to shake off the bondage of alcohol, and that monster 
has tried all his tricks to evade our blows ; but thank God, we cornered 
him at last, and Neal Dow prepared a great big gun, and called on his 
friends in the Legislature to help him to man it, and they load and aim 
it at him. They apply the match, the ball takes effect, and the report 
thunders through the world that Maine is free ; and the glad tidings of 
great joy has called us together here to-day to rejoice, and how can I 
speak with my heart so full of joy ? Dow’s long tom has given the 
signal, and every State in the Union will soon let slip at the monster ; 
and as I cannot speak, I will sing you a song I made while traveling. 
I call it ‘ Uncle Sam’s talk to Alcohol,’ and sing it to the tune of 
‘ Moll Brooke.’ ” He then paused a moment ; after which he said, “ I 
will thank the band to strike the tune, for my soul is so full I cannot 
think of it.” The band complied, and he then sang with great effect the 
following lines : 

Here rum, IVe found you out, sir. 

And know what you're about, sir. 

And hav'nt now a doubt, sir. 

You intend to ruin my land. 

L,A,N, D! land. 

I'll not touch you with my hand,* 

You'rg too foul with filth and mud, sir, 

So gather up your duds. Sir, 

To darkest regions scud, sir. 

With all your kindred.band. 

Chorus — When you entered my plantations. 

Among my poor relations, 

^ With your ^ once in 'a while potations,' 

^ Did'nt you say you'd do them good. 

But now, how stands the case, sir. 

Your slavish chains I trace, sir, ^ 

On every part of the face, sir. 

Of this, my cherished home. 

H, 0, M, E ! home. 

You make my kindred foam. 




EMMA MORTON. 


169 


— '.ic : ", 

■ 

Their morals you\e corrupted, 

And justice you Ve obstructed, ' ' 

And vice you have inducted, ' ^ 

Beneath the sacred dome. • 

When, &c. ^ ‘ 

Both high and low you^ve slain,- sir, 

And others made insane, sir. 

And millions groan with pain, sir. 

Inflicted by your hand. 

^ H, A, N, D ! hand. 

My people cannot stand, 

Erom mountain top to valley, 

•From Jim to little Sally, 

With all my kin you dally. 

And brutalize ipy land. 

When, &c. 

^ .V 

In the • cities you have swilled them, 

In the country you have jilled them, ‘ / ; . . 

i ' 

And every where youVe milled them. 

And thrown a fire-brand. 


B, R, A, N, D ! brand. 

My people cannot stand. 

They are tottering, falling, reeling. 


And look downwards for ceiling, ‘ . ' 

And for earth they're upwards feeling. 

With ^trembling, palsied hand. 

/ ! . •.: 

When, &c. 

■. ■ . .•■ . :i 

c i/,’ 

, ■r'>;na £.^; 

Into prisons you have cramm'd them, 

In penitentiaries jamm'd them, 

T' eternal ruin damn’d them, . 

f By your alluring charm. , , 

C, H, A, R, M ! charm. • ' 7*^ 

' You said you’d do no harm. ’ - • ,< 

There are scores besides poor Ned, sir, . 

Whose wives hang down their head, sir, 

And whose children cry for bread, sir. 

Because you’re on my farm. * 

When, &c. 

‘ ’ . , ‘ ii 

• T i - 

• '/-Py 

You are worse than any thief,, sir,' 

And you fill my land with grief, sir. 

And my kin for kind relief, sir. 

On me now loudly call. 

C,A,L, L! call. 

You make my kindred brawl. 

And quarrel, fight and kill, sir, ' : 

My fairest dames at will, sir. 

And each home with dread you fill, sir, , . 

By your debasing thrall. . - ^ , 

■When, Ac. '' 




170 


EMMA MORTON. 


I set my guards tc watch you, 

But none of them could catch you, 

With the father of lies I match you, 

And all your hellish crew. 

C, B, E, W ! crew. 

Your words are all untrue. 

Begone and quit my sight, sir, 

You^re fair creation ^s blight, sm. 

And the realms of hellish night, sir. 

Are the the proper place for you. 

You fell destroyer, hell-begotten. 

Maggot eaten, blue and rotten. 

For carion crows j’ou are too rotten, 

Sol kick you from my farm. 

After O’Brien’s song, Mrs. Blackwood was cheered, and called for 5 
but she sat still, and her husband rose and apologized for her stillness 5 
and, when he took his seat, they gave him and his lady three hearty 
cheers, and then requested that she would merely rise so that they 
could all see her. After repeated calls, she rose; and the air trembled 
with nine cheers for Emma Blackwood. With tears streaming down 
her benevolent cheeks, she looked over the vast assembly; and, after 
composing herself the best she could, she modestly said : 

“I gratefully receive, dear friends, your proffered respect and kind- 
ness ; and I rejoice with you to-day, in view of the soul-cheering pros- 
pect that now lies before us. But the scene which lies before me, reminds 
me of the awful death of a doting mother, and the sad fate of an aiSec- 
tionate father.” She paused for utterance a few moments, and then 
said: “You have, my friends, heard my history, and know that I have 
been doomed to suffer more than death by my father’s pretended friends,” 
She was here interrupted by groans and sobs, a short distance from her, 
which made a stir among the people ; and after order was restored, she 
continued: “ But I do not tolerate malice in my heart, and” — she ceased, 
and stepped back, as a man of common appearance, except his face, 
which was pale, and his eyes, which were swollen with tears, advanced 
towards her. When he drew near she recognized him, and turning her 
face from him, she exclaimed : “ O ! Holland ! monster in human shape, 
quit my sight.” Several by-standers seized him to take him away, but 
he cast himself on the ground in a supplicating posture, and said : 

“ O ! Mrs. Blackwood, for God’s sake, spurn me not away unheard 
and unforgiven, for the injuries I have done you ; and if to forgive the 
penitent, is an attribute divine, O ! hear my penitent story.” 

She looked at the unfortunate man in a compassionate manner, and 
said: “ I will hear you ; arise and proceed.” 


EMMA MORTON. 


171 


He arose from his knees bathed in tears, with all eyes turned upon 
him, and said : “ The first morning I rose in my prison house, where I 

was justly confined, for my outrageous villainy towards you, I found 
this little volume in my cell;” holding up the Testament that Mr. 
Blackwood left there. “ I opened it, and saw Emma Morton written on 
the title page, and I sank to the floor with a load of grief for the hor- 
rid wickedness that I practiced towards you and your family. In soli- 
tude and anguish I passed the day and night following, and the next 
day I commenced reading this, your heaven-sent book. I read it 
through ; and it pointed out my guilt, and the remedy. But O ! I had 
injured you, as well as transgressed the laws of God. To God I could 
go for pardon; but before I could obtain his forgivness, I had to make 
amends to you, and I have not been able to find you until to-day ; and 
from the time of my discharge from prison until now, I have trav- 
eled under a load of sin and sorrow, that has almost sunk me into the 
grave, unforgiven by you, and unpardoned by my God. O ! for mercy^s 
sake, forgive me for the injuries I have done you ; and let the love of 
God fill our souls with ^that joy which is unspeakable, and full of glo- 
ry,’ in addition to the joy which flows from the happy act that has called 
us together.” 

Most unfortunate man,” said Mrs. Blackwood; “though I have suf- 
fered, greatly suffered by your wicked deeds, yet I have no malice in 
my heart towards you ; and, in the presence of this joyful assembly, I 
forgive you for all the injuries I have received at your hands, and pray 
that the Lord God will grant you his abundant grace, and pardon all 
your sins.” After this, she took her seat, almost overcome by the sad 
recollection of the past. 

Deeply agitated, Holland then turned to the audience and said: “Re- 
spected friends, I am happy to meet you this day, and I rejoice to know 
that I am not now the wicked friend of alcohol I was, when here some 
time ago ; but that I am now opposed to the destructive liquid, and in- 
tend to continue so through evil as well as through good report.” He 
then took his seat, and the ceremonies of the day were closed by “ Hail 
Columbia! ” from the band. 

Mr. Blackwood and his lady, Roper and O’Brien, went home with Mr. 
Moore, with whom we leave them, preparing for further usefulness. 
And all we have to do now, to close our story, is to add that Mr. Love- 
penny died a natural death, and that Dr. Leach is in the State prison for 
killing Editor Puff, in a drunken frolic. 


Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the Year One Thousand Eight Hun- 
dred and Fifty-four, hy 

CHARLES HOWARD, 

in the office of the Clerk of the District Court of the United States, for the Dis- 
trict of Illinois. 





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